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http://www.archive.org/details/dawnbuilderOOneihrich 


By  John    G.   Neihardt 

A  Bundle  of  Myrrh 

Man-Song 

The  Dawn- Builder 

The  River  and  I 

The  Lonesome  Trail 


The  Dawn- 
Builder 


h.. 


y 


yohn  G.  Neihardt 


'     J  5  /        >    *,  3       »      >   ,  » 


MITCHELL   KENNERLEY 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

MCMXI 


Copyright  igio  hy 
Mitchell  Kennerley 


*    •  « 


•  *  ,.       . 


CONTENTS 


PART  ONE 


THE  FIRST   NOTCH 
CHAPTER 

I  THE  COMING  OF  MR.   WATERS 

II  THE  CRIME  OF  THE  ZODIAC 

III  THE   CUTTING  OF  THE   NOTCH 

IV  THE  TREASURE 

V  WATERS   &  CO.,   LIQUOR   DEALERS 

VI  THE  CRY  OF  THE  LONESOME 

VII  THE   CORK   LEG 

VIII  THE  EPIC  CRY 

IX  THE  FIRST   BOAT 

X  THE  SECOND  BOAT 


PAGE 

7 

12 
22 
32 

46 

53 
59 

79 


PART  TWO 


THE  ISLAND 

I  THE  ROUSTABOUT 

II  WATERS    WAKES 

III  THE  PHYSICIAN  OF  THE  UNIVERSE 

IV  THE  COMPELLING  DREAM 

V  THE  MYSTIC  CHORD  OF  SEVEN   STRINGS 

VI  CONCERNING   HAPPINESS 

VII  THE  SECOND   NOTCH 

VIII  THE   KING  OF  THE  ISLAND 

IX  THE  AWAKENING 

X  THE   BUTTERFLY    WITH   THE   CRUSHED   WINGS 

XI  FUEL   FOR  THE   WINTER 

XII  THE  WEDDING  IN   THE  WILDERNESS 

XIII  THE   AUTUMN 

XIV  THE  CUTTING  OF  THE  THIRD   NOTCH 

XV  THE  SEVENTH  DAY  OF  THE  SEVENTH   MONTH 

XVI  THE  FACE   OF   DEATH 

XVII  THE  thunder's  VOICE 

XVIII  THE  CALL  OF  THE  WORLD 


81 
89 

95 
105 
"5 
127 
136 
140 
148 

155 
160 

165 
173 
177 
180 
189 
195 
200 


ivil05413 


PART  THREE 

THE  BIG  WORLD 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I      THE.  GROCERY   STORE  205 

n      MRS.  GRIGGS'  CALL  212 

III      THE  OLD  TIME  CLINGS  219 

IV      THE  NEEDLE  CLUB  225 

V     THE  COMMITTEE  ON  SALVATION  231 

VI      THE  JUDGMENT  239 

VII      A   CLOUD  ACROSS  THE  SUNRISE  243 

VIII      AS  THEY  SAW  IT  251 

IX      THE  GROWING   MYSTERY  253 

X      THE  SUNSET  257 

XI     THE  RESURRECTION  265 


PART  FOUR 

TOWARD  THE  SUMMER 

I  THE  RACE  WITH   DREAD  2/1 

II  THE   NEW   CAPTAIN 

III  THE  RETURN  OF  GLOOM 

IV  THE  COYOTE  3^3 

V  MUTINY  3C^ 

VI  THE  LAST  OF  THE  LUCAS  314 

VII  A  BIT  OF  PAPER  319 

VIII  BREAD  UPON  THE  WATERS  325 

IX  A  NOTCH  DEEPENED  330 


THE  DAWN-BUILDER 

PART  ONE 
THE  FIRST  NOTCH 

I 

The  Coming  of  Mr.  Waters 

'Pq  St.  Louis,  June  3,  '62 

James  Simpson,  Esq., 
Editor  Trumpet, 

Fort  Calhoun,  N.  T. 
Dear  Jim: 

The  man  who  will  hand  you  this  note  goes  by 
the  name  of  Mr.  Waters,  which  will,  as  I  firmly 
believe  from  reputation  and  appearance,  prove  to 
be  a  misnomer.  I  commend  him  to  you  for  three 
reasons;  first,  because  of  his  wooden  leg;  second, 
because  of  his  blind  eye;  third,  because  he  says  he 
is  a  printer.  I  think  it  was  a  printer  you  asked  me 
to  send  to  you.  I  found  him  down  at  the  river 
landing,  busy  in  maintaining  a  prone  attitude,  and 

7 


8       . ,  ,  : ;  .THE   DAWN-BUILDER 

industriously    sunning    himself.      Mr.    Simpson,    I 

take  pleasure  in  introducing  to  you  Mr.  Waters. 

Yours,  etc.,  ^ 

J.  C 

Mr.  James  Simpson,  editor  and  proprietor  of  the 
Fort  Calhoun  Trumpet,  read  this  introductory  note 
with  conflicting  emotions.  He  scowled  and  smiled 
alternately.  The  sight  of  the  familiar  scrawl  of 
his  friend,  exciting,  as  it  did,  memories  of  old  time 
friendship,  could  not  quite  overcome  the  irritation 
caused  by  the  light  manner  in  which  the  serious  pre- 
dicament of  Mr.  Simpson  seemed  to  have  been 
treated. 

In  all  the  long  line  of  the  followers  of  Guten- 
berg, Mr.  Simpson  felt  distinguished  as  the  only 
Job  of  the  profession.  During  the  issuance  of  six 
weekly  editions  of  the  Trumpet,  he  had  employed 
half  as  many  printers.  Each  had  come,  contracted 
the  war  fever,  and  gone — swallowed  up  by  the  great 
angry  cloud  in  the  East.  As  a  result,  the  erstwhile 
strident  Trumpet  had  degenerated  rapidly  to  the 
station  of  a  child's  whistle — a  thing  of  faintness 
and  caprice. 

It  was  for  this  reason  that  Mr.  Simpson  had  de- 
spatched an  appealing  letter  to  his  friend  in  St. 
Louis,  asking  that  he  send  not  simply  a  printer,  but 
a  printer  with  unique  qualifications.  "Send  me  a 
printer,"  he  had  written,  "who  is  physically  dis- 
abled for  military  service  in  some  insuperable 
manner." 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  9 

Mr.  Simpson  looked  up  from  the  note  of  intro- 
duction with  a  scowl  hanging  heavily  from  his  brow, 
and  fixed  a  pair  of  narrowed  and  bitterly  scrutin- 
izing eyes  upon  the  face  of  Mr.  Waters.  He  saw 
a  man  near  thirty-five  years  of  age,  of  medium 
height,  with  a  pair  of  broad  shoulders,  drooped 
with  habits  of  slouchiness,  from  which  a  thread- 
bare coat  hung  like  a  visible  joke.  His  head  was 
large,  shaped  for  intelligence,  and  covered  with  a 
heavy  tangled  growth  of  yellow  hair,  that  gave 
every  indication  of  curls,  should  it  ever  be  encour- 
aged with  a  washing.  The  sun-faded  ends  of  his 
locks  nestled  affectionately  about  his  ears.  His  face 
was  shaped  for  expressions  of  kindness,  but  its  many 
lines  of  past  emotions  made  it  bewildering. 

The  man  had  but  one  eye.  A  pitiful  growth  of 
short,  sandy  hair  straggled  down  his  cheeks,  and 
flared  up  into  the  semblance  of  a  dying  flame  where 
the  scrubby  moustache  gathered  in  bristles  above  a 
sensitive  mouth,  quivering  at  the  corners,  and  with 
lips  dried  and  parched  as  with  long  use  of  stimu- 
lants. 

As  the  critical  and  somewhat  disapproving  gaze 
of  the  editor  travelled  down  from  the  crown  of  the 
man's  head,  across  the  shabby  face,  tanned  throat, 
ragged  shirt,  buttonless  coat,  and  trousers  drawn 
askew  by  defective  suspenders,  he  discovered  for 
the  first  time  that  the  description  of  his  friend  was 
not  wanting  with  regard  to  the  one  leg,  the  left, 
which  was  supplied  from  the  knee  with  a  battered 


lo  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

iron-shod  wooden  stump,  now  nervously  beating  time 
on  the  floor  to  some  careless  tune  in  its  owner's 
head. 

When  Mr.  Simpson's  eyes  had  completed  the 
downward  tour  of  inspection,  they  began  the  return 
trip  toward  the  man's  face,  re-noting  the  appear- 
ance of  the  applicant  with  the  least  expression  of 
doubt,  that  rapidly  changed  as  the  visual  ascent  con- 
tinued, and  finally  softened  into  a  quiet  twinkle  of 
mirth  as  they  reached  the  level  of  the  man's  anxious 
eye. 

"Ever  set  any  type  in  your  life?" 

**Quite  a  considerable,"  replied  Mr.  Waters. 

"All  right,"  said  the  editor,  "I'll  try  you." 

Mr.  Simpson,  being  a  man  of  much  dignity  and 
few  words,  took  a  sheet  of  copy  from  the  hook, 
handed  it  to  the  new  type-setter,  and  motioned  him 
toward  an  empty  stool  that  sat  before  the  rickety 
cases,  at  which  a  bare-footed,  freckle-faced,  frowsel- 
headed  boy  of  about  twelve  years,  laboriously  clicked 
type  into  a  stick  with  many  painful  gyrations  of 
mouth  and  much  wriggling  of  toes,  nervous  with 
enormous  responsibility. 

As  Waters  stumped  toward  the  cases,  the  boy 
rested  the  unfinished  stick  upon  his  case  and  stared 
curiously  into  the  single  eye  of  the  newly  hired. 

For  a  moment  expressions  of  doubt  chased  them- 
selves among  the  freckles  of  the  boy's  face,  then 
the  man's  eye  twinkled  kindly,  and  he  smiled.  The 
smile  was  a  halo  that  spread  and  glorified  his  face. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  n 

Immediately  the  boy  responded  with  an  honest, 
mouth-stretching  grin,  accompanied  by  a  simpering 
elongation  of  the  eyes  that  gave  his  face  the  bland  ex- 
pression of  a  peaceful  cat,  dreaming  in  the  sun.  Still 
smiling,  Waters  climbed  upon  the  stool,  poked  his 
wooden  leg  through  the  rounds,  and  with  the  dex- 
terity of  one  who  is  happy  with  the  consciousness  of 
friendship,  ran  his  eye  down  the  copy  of  a  pompous 
war  editorial,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  the  an- 
tiphony  of  clicking  type. 


II 

The  Crime  of  the  Zodiac 

During  the  second  week  of  Waters'  employment, 
Mr.  Simpson  announced  that  he  would  be  away 
several  days,  stating  that  business  necessitated  a  trip 
to  Omaha  City,  a  distance  of  some  twenty-five  miles 
down  the  Missouri  River.  The  deportment  of  the 
new  foreman  during  the  previous  week  had  been 
so  satisfactory  that  the  editor  felt  safe  in  leaving 
him  in  charge  of  the  Trumpet. 

For  some  time  after  the  departure  of  Mr.  Simp- 
son on  a  southbound  packet.  Waters  and  the  boy 
sat  silently  at  their  cases.  Finally  laying  down  his 
stick,  Waters  turned  his  monocular  gaze  upon  the 
boy. 

"What'd  you  say  your  name  was?" 

"Henry  Sprangs." 

"Would  you  mind  bein'  called  Specks  f^ 

"Huh  uh,"  replied  the  boy,  shaking  his  head  neg- 
atively and  simpering  with  good-nature. 

"Well,"  said  the  foreman,  "when  I  first  lay  my 
eye  onto  you,  I  says  'That  chap  ought  to  be  named 
Specks.'     No  harm  meant,  you  know." 

12 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  13 

With  a  spasmodic  industry,  partly  caused  by  sud- 
den bashfulness,  the  two  fell  violently  to  sticking 
type-metal.  Suddenly  the  man  again  laid  down  his 
stick. 

"Well,  you  see,'*  he  said,  with  a  comic  seriousness 
in  his  eye,  "I  said  this  way,  'mebbe  Specks  and  me 
could  be  cronies.'  How'd  you  like  bein'  my  crony — 
huh?" 

*'rd  like  it  awfully,  Mr.  Waters." 

"Then  it's  cronies  we  be — cronies  for "  and 

he  extended  a  big  dirty  paw  to  the  boy,  who  took 

it  bashfully "cronies  for  a  thous — and — years 

— and — a — day !" 

Waters  nervously  fumbled  in  a  side  pocket  of  his 
coat,  pulled  out  a  pipe  and  a  pouch  of  tobacco  and 
fell  to  smoking  desperately. 

"You  see,"  he  began  between  puffs,  "they  hain't 
many  folks  that's  real  true  cronies;  mighty  few  of 
'em.  Specks;  mighty  few  of  'em.  This  here  pipe  has 
been  about  my  only  crony  for  quite  a  spell.  Some- 
times I  git  awfully  lonesome.  Specks,  and  then  I  need 
a  crony." 

The  least  suggestion  of  a  film  dimmed  the  eye  of 
Waters  and  was  reproduced  sympathetically  in  the 
eyes  of  the  boy. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  "when  a  feller  gets  tired 
of  hisself,  w'y  then  he  needs  another  feller  what 
ain't  tired  of  hisself,  to  tell  him  he  ain't  all  bad, 
less'n  he  fergits — fergits  what  his  mother  used  to 
tell  him ;  to  be  a  good  boy,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 


14  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

you  know.  It's  durned  easy  to  be  bad  when  you 
ain't  got  no  crony." 

"But  you're  good  always — hain't  you,  Mr. 
Waters?"  said  the  boy  wonderingly. 

"When  I  ain't  lonesome — sometimes,  Specks;  but 

then "  and  he  sighed — "I'm  middlin'  lonesome 

most  of  the  time." 

"W'y,  is  your  pa  and  your  ma  both  of  'em  dead?'* 
inquired  the  boy  inferentially. 

Waters  smiled.  But  this  time  it  was  simply  the 
stretching  of  a  parched  mouth  without  the  halo. 

"  'Tain't  that,"  he  said,  and  fell  to  work  with 
exaggerated  industry. 

"And  you  see,"  again  began  the  foreman  dron- 
ingly, timing  his  words  with  the  click  of  the  type,  "I 
could  tell  you  a  lot  of  true  yarns  about  pirates  and 
buried  treasures,  and  how  I  lost  my  looker  and  how 
I  got  this  wooden  kicker;  and  say,  I  know  where 
there's  a  buried  treasure !" 

"Huh  I"  The  boy's  body  stiffened  into  an  excla- 
mation point. 

"Yessiree,  think  I'm  a-spinnin'  you  a  yarn? 
Would  a  feller  lie  to  his  crony?" 

"Where  is  it?"  cried  the  boy,  converting  a  half 
stickful  into  hopeless  pi  in  his  excitement. 

"Clost  by.  Specks,  but  I  hain't  ready  to  show 
you  yet." 

The  boy  fell  nervously  to  throwing  in  the  pied 
type  and  Waters  puffed  his  pipe  and  worked  many 
minutes  in  silence. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  15 

Suddenly  the  foreman  blew  a  long  breath  that 
whirred  drily  through  his  lips  like  a  gusty  hot-wind 
wheezing  up  parched  gulches  in  August. 

In  an  awesome  whisper  he  announced  his  con- 
dition. 

'<rm—dryr 

Specks  looked  at  his  crony  in  wonderment  and 
pointed  to  the  water  pail,  but  the  foreman  shook 
his  head  hopelessly. 

^Water!  When  I  was  just  a  little  squallin*  fel- 
ler/' he  said,  ''the  old  folks  called  me  Waters; 
never  could  stand  the  name  nor  the  thing  since.  I 
can  recollect  that  I  took  to  drinkin'  milk  to  onct; 
drank  that  till  I  got  so  big  I  was  ashamed  of  my- 
self. But  no,  siree,  I  couldn't  never  get  used  to 
water!  W'y,  Specks — water!  Do  you  know  what 
water  is  made  out  of?  W'y,  oxgyn  and  hydrigin! 
Them's  both  of  'em  rank  poisons  to  my  system!" 

He  slapped  his  hands  upon  the  region  of  his 
stomach. 

"Reckon  youVe  heard  tell  of  Sahary,  hain't  you? 
Well,  Specks,  this  here  is  Sahary!" 

Specks  dropped  his  lower  jaw  in  astonishment  at 
the  startling  geography  of  Mr.  Waters. 

*Tes,  sir!"  continued  Waters;  *'this  here  is 
worse'n  Sahary.  It's  somethin'  that  hain't  in  the 
g'ographies.  Specks.  It's  h — e — double — 1!  Did 
you  ever  see  clay  so  dry  of  an  August  that  it  cracked 
like  a  sore  lip  ?  Well,  that  there  clay  was  all  soaked 
with  wet  'longside  of  my  stomach!     I'm  dry,  and 


1 6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

things  can't  never  be  no  wetter  till  there's  moistVe; 
and  it  takes  money  to  make  moist're.  Say,  Specks, 
you  hain't  got  some  dimes  concealed  about  you?" 

It  happened  that  Specks  had,  and  he  readily 
loaned  them  to  his  crony,  who  immediately  started 
for  the  door.  After  some  time  he  returned,  grin- 
ning pleasantly.  He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and 
produced  a  large  flask  of  whiskey.  He  pulled  the 
cork,  and  placing  the  flask  to  his  lips,  took  a  long 
deliberate  pull  at  the  liquor. 

"It's  been  pretty  danged  cloudy  fer  some  time. 
Specks,"  he  said;  "but  it's  goin'  to  rain  a  spell  now. 
Specks,  and  by  and  by  the  sun's  goin'  to  come  out." 

He  took  another  pull  at  the  liquor  and  his  smile 
got  back  its  halo. 

"I  can  feel  the  verd're  a-growin'  all  over  my  arid 
trac's,"  he  announced,  with  a  sigh  and  an  expres- 
sion of  supreme  comfort.  "The  birds  is  beginnin' 
to  twitter  in  my  head." 

He  put  his  mouth  down  over  the  neck  of  the  flask 
a  third  time,  and  it  showered  quite  heavily  for  a 
minute.     Then  the  sun  came  out. 

"Say,  Specks,"  he  went  on  garrulously,  now  com- 
pletely oblivious  of  his  work,  "don't  you  know,  I 
love  my  dear  old  stomach !  Never  deny  her  nothin' 
whatever.  Me  and  her  has  been  cronies  and  ached 
fer  emptiness  lots  of  times  when  we  hadn't  nothin' 
else  particular  to  be  about.  When  I  die  op'lent  or 
rich  or  somethin',  goin'  to  will  everything  I  got  to 
my  stomach.     Good  in  me — eh?" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  17 

*'Say/'  he  continued  amid  hiccoughing,  ''I  was 
horned  thirsty;  horned  that-a-way.  Yes,  sir.  'Tain't 
my  fault,  howsomever.    It's  the  Zodiac's!" 

*'The  whafsT^  gasped  Specks  in  awe  at  the  mar- 
vellous verbosity  of  his  crony. 

*Wy,  the  Zodiac^sT'  reiterated  Waters  sharply. 
**You  hunt  me  up  an  almanax,  and  I'll  explain  it  to 
you.  Yes,  that's  one  a-hangin'  on  the  wall  there. 
Now,  Specks,  you  give  me  your  undivisible  intention, 
as  the  schoolma'am  says;  your  derisible  extension; 
you  know  what  I  mean.  Well,  do  you  see  that  ring 
around  that  feller  that's  got  the  horr'ble  rip  into  his 
belly?  Well,  that  there  is  nothin'  more  nor  less 
than  the  Zodiac!     Learnin'  is  sweet — hain't  it?" 

Mr.  Waters'  smile  was  extravagant. 

"Well,"  he  continued  with  the  air  of  a  pedagogue, 
"do  you  see  them  there  crawdads  and  lions  and 
tarantellers  and  billy  goats  and  things  pasted  onto 
the  ring  around  that  feller  with  the  ripped  stomach? 
Them,  Specks,  them  is  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac!" 

At  this  critical  point  in  the  astrological  education 
of  Specks,  Waters  smiled  a  broad  and  maudlin 
smile  by  way  of  deepening  the  impression. 

"Yes,  sir,  Specks,  them's  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac! 
Now  every  feller  what  gets  horned  has  got  to  be 
horned  in  one  of  them  there  signs.  Understand? 
If  he  refuses,"  continued  Waters  with  impressive 
deliberation,  "if  he  refuses  to  be  horned  under  one 
of  them  there  signs,  w'y  then  he  gets  the  beautiful 
priv'lege  of  bein'  horned  into  this  here  kind  and 


1 8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

pleasant  world  snatched  from  him  afore  he  gets  a 
mouth  to  squall  with  about  it. 

"Now  I  was  horned  in  this  here  sign  where  the 
feller  'thout  no  shirt  on  is  a-pourin'  out  the  liquor. 
They  call  that  feller  Aq'ar'us,  which  means  in  the 
Irish  tongue,  him  that  dispenses  liquors!  Now  per- 
haps there  hain't  no  happenin'  in  a  man's  life  that 
he'd  ought  to  be  so  careful  about  as  bein'  horned. 
First,  he'd  ought  to  pick  hisself  a  good  ma;  second, 
he'd  ought  to  aim  to  get  into  a  rich  fambly;  third, 
he'd  ought  to  have  some  kind  of  a  pa;  and  fourth. 
Specks,  fourth,  he'd  ought  to  wait  till  he  can  get  the 
right  sign.  There  was  the  mistake  of  my  c'reerl 
Hang  it.  Specks,  I'd  ought  to  knowed  better  than 
bein'  horned  under  that  there  sign!" 

Waters  produced  a  vacuum  in  the  flask  in  his 
efforts  to  drink  the  last  drop.  He  removed  his 
mouth  with  a  report  like  that  of  a  distant  gun. 

"Yes,  sir.  Specks,"  he  continued  with  a  weary  in- 
flection in  his  voice,  "bein'  horned  was  bad  enough, 
but  bein'  horned  under  them  conditions  was  abs'- 
lutely  ru'nous!  Seemed  like  I  knowed  I  was  bein' 
horned  under  a  thirsty  sign,  'cause  the  first  thing  I 
knowed  after  I  come  to,  I  was  a-bellerin'  my  little 
lungs  out  fer  a  drink.  Hain't  never  got  enough  to 
drink  yet.  Got  to  be  thirsty  till  they  drop  me  into 
the  bitter  hole  and  kick  the  clods  into  my  mouth." 

At  the  last  weary  word,  Waters  ran  down  like  a 
neglected  clock.  His  jaw  dropped;  his  eye  winked 
convulsively  and  then  closed  with  a  nervous  lid.    He 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  19 

leaned  limply  back  in  his  chair  and  began  to  snore. 

Specks  was  frightened;  not  for  himself,  but  for 
his  crony.  He  felt  a  lump  in  his  throat  at  the 
thought  of  Mr.  Simpson  discharging  the  foreman. 
He  tried  to  arouse  the  heavy  sleeper. 

*'G'offI"  muttered  Waters,  blubbering  something 
with  twitching  lips,  that  doubtless  would  have  been 
masterly  swearing,  had  the  lips  been  sober  enough. 

Specks  sat  dejectedly  on  the  floor  and  rocked  his 
head  in  his  hands.  Suddenly  he  was  seized  with  a 
strong  resolution.  Perhaps  Mr.  Simpson  would  re- 
turn next  day.  By  that  time  there  should  be  at  least 
two  galleys  of  type  set.  Specks  resolved  to  set  the 
type  himself. 

With  much  tugging,  he  dragged  his  slumbering 
crony  into  a  back  room,  placed  a  bundle  of  papers 
under  his  head,  then  went  to  his  stool  and  fell  to 
work  with  desperate  energy.  All  day  he  worked. 
At  times  tears  came  into  his  eyes  and  he  snivelled 
softly.  For  what  if  Mr.  Waters,  his  first  real  crony, 
should  go  away? 

Specks  was  the  only  child  of  the  widow,  Mrs. 
Sprangs,  whose  husband  had  gone  West  with  the 
great  tide  of  goldseekers  in  the  early  fifties,  leaving 
her  in  the  little  Missouri  River  town,  to  which  he 
hoped  to  return  in  a  few  years,  rich  enough  to  make 
his  wife  and  little  son  happy.  But  as  no  word  had 
been  received  since  his  going,  Mrs.  Sprangs,  little 
by  little,  lost  hope  and  accepted  widowhood  with 
inward  grief  and  outward  resignation.     For  years 


20  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

she  had  supported  herself  and  her  boy  by  washing 
clothes. 

Perhaps  it  was  his  own  life  that  made  the  heart 
of  the  boy  respond  to  the  lonesomeness  of  Mr. 
Waters. 

At  supper  Specks  was  nervous  and  preoccupied. 
His  tongue,  which  generally  ran  at  too  rapid  a  rate 
for  his  tired  mother's  comfort,  was  strangely  still. 
But  when  his  mother,  fearing  for  his  health,  ques- 
tioned him  closely,  Specks  ran  off  into  an  elaborate 
rhapsody  concerning  cronies  and  buried  treasure, 
through  which  the  name  of  Mr.  Waters  ran  like 
a  recurring  melody. 

After  supper.  Specks  again  startled  his  mother  by 
washing  his  feet  promptly  at  eight  o'clock  and  going 
to  bed  without  a  struggle.  This  was  unheard  of, 
and  Mrs.  Sprangs  fell  to  sleep  that  night  unusually 
happy  at  the  prospect  of  raising  a  boy  with  habits  of 
such  promising  regularity.  She  felt  a  warm  place 
in  her  heart  for  this  Mr.  Waters.  He  must  be  a 
very  good  man,  she  thought,  to  exercise  so  commend- 
able an  influence  over  her  son. 

But  Specks  did  not  fall  to  sleep.  He  sat  upon 
the  edge  of  his  bed,  listening  with  strained  ears  to 
the  breathing  of  his  mother.  When  the  breathing  at 
last  came  with  the  depth  and  regularity  of  heavy 
slumber,  he  crept  stealthily  out  of  the  house  and  ran 
at  the  top  of  his  speed  to  the  office  of  the  Trumpet. 

Carefully  covering  the  windows  that  no  one  might 
see  his  light,  he  lit  a  battered  brass  lamp  hanging 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  21 

above  the  cases.  Being  assured  of  the  well-being 
of  his  crony  by  the  sound  of  heavy  breathing  from 
the  back  room,  Specks  began  setting  type  with  nerv- 
ous energy. 

In  the  dead  of  the  night  he  was  aroused  from  his 
stupor-like  attention  to  his  work  by  a  groan  from  the 
back  room. 

**Don't  be  too  plagued  hard  onto  me.''  It  was 
the  voice  of  Waters,  tossing  in  drunken  slumber. 
"Don't  want  to  be  a  bad  feller.  Specks."  The  voice 
became  fuddled.  "You'd  ought  to  know  I've  been 
lonesome.  Give  me  a  chance."  After  another  period 
of  unintelligible  muttering,  the  voice  of  Waters 
came  faintly  again.  "If  nobody  cared,  wouldn't 
you  be  like  me?"  The  sleeper  turned  heavily  and 
began  to  snore  again. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Specks  placed  the 
last  necessary  stickful  of  type  in  the  galleys.  Then 
taking  the  lamp,  he  tiptoed  into  the  back  room. 
Waters  lay  on  his  back.  His  face  was  hardly  recog- 
nizable as  the  one  that  had  borne  the  smile  with  the 
halo.  It  was  marked  as  with  years  of  suffering  and 
mental  anguish,  and  under  the  twitching  eyelids  tears 
sparkled  in  the  lamplight. 


Ill 

The  Cutting  of  the  Notch 

"Say,  Specks/'  said  Waters  on  the  Saturday 
afternoon  following  his  entanglement  with  the 
Zodiac,  "let's  you  and  me  take  a  boat  and  go  up  the 
river  to-morrow.  Mebbe  I  could  spin  a  few  yarns 
about  when  I  was  the  cap'n  of  a  sailin'  vessel  and 
how  I  lost  my  eye  and  my  leg;  and  say,  mebbe  I 
could  show  you  somethin'  nice  about  handlin'  a 
boat.'' 

Specks  was  delighted. 

"And  then  we'd  hunt  for  the  buried  treasure!" 
he  cried  excitedly.  Then  his  countenance  darkened. 
"Don't  know  as  ma  would  let  me  go,  though. 
Mebbe  if  you'd  ask  her,  she'd  let  me." 

''Mer 

There  was  the  faintest  hint  of  sadness  in  the  voice 
of  Waters. 

The  boy's  eyes  dilated  in  wonderment.  "W'y, 
my  ma  is  awful  good,  Mr.  Waters,"  he  said; 
" — and  pretty,"  he  added  irrelevantly. 

"Does  she  know  I  hain't  got  only  one  eye?" 

The  boy  nodded  affirmatively. 

22 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  23 

^^And  a  wooden  leg?" 

Another  nod. 

^^And  ragged  clothes?" 

A  third  nod. 

'Then  ril  ask  her,  Specks." 

They  worked  for  some  time  in  silence. 

"Say,"  said  Specks,  suddenly  turning  upon  Wat- 
ers, ^''grin  when  you  ask  her — like  you  do  at  me !" 

So  it  happened  that  evening  as  Mrs.  Sprangs  was 
wearily  putting  the  fag  end  of  a  large  washing 
through  the  rinse,  that  Specks,  with  face  beaming 
premature  conciliation,  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
half  leading,  half  dragging  by  the  hand,  a  ragged 
and  reluctant  visitor,  who  bashfully  supervised  the 
noisy  evolutions  of  his  iron-shod  leg  with  a  down- 
cast eye. 

Mrs.  Sprangs,  a  woman  in  the  early  thirties,  of 
medium  height  and  rather  substantial  build,  with  a 
winsome  motherliness  glowing  through  the  many 
lines  of  care  that  seamed  her  face,  raised  her  head 
from  the  washtub  and  looked  at  the  visitor  with  a 
sudden  catching  of  the  breath.  For  a  breathless 
moment  her  dripping  hands  hung  motionless  above 
the  tub. 

Waters,  venturing  a  glance  upward  in  the  awk- 
ward silence,  saw  the  expression  of  the  woman's  face 
and  dropped  his  eye  nervously,  while  his  lips 
twitched  as  with  a  bitterness  of  heart. 

"Say,  ma,  this  is  himl"  Specks  cried  with  a  forced 
joy  fulness.     Then  drawing  closer  to  his  crony,  he 


24  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

gave  the  man  a  friendly  dig  in  the  ribs.  ^^GrinF'  he 
prompted  in  a  stage  whisper. 

Waters,  like  a  man  who  does  his  duty,  raised  his 
eye  and  spread  his  lips  in  a  vain  attempt  to  simulate 
good  nature. 

*'This  is  Mr.  Waters?''  said  Mrs.  Sprangs,  hur- 
riedly wiping  her  hands  upon  her  apron,  and  extend- 
ing the  first  dried  to  Mr.  Waters,  who  took  it  limply. 
"The  boy  has  been  talking  of  nothing  else,  Mr. 
Waters.  I'm  glad  you  came.  Won't  you  stay  for 
supper?  I've  got  some  meat  on  boiling,  and  it 
won't  be  long." 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  was  soft  and  sincere, 
and  as  Waters  listened,  the  skeleton  smile  took  on 
its  halo.  Specks,  more  delighted  at  the  ultimate 
success  of  his  crony's  smile  than  at  the  prospect  of 
eating  supper  together,  danced  about  the  place  on 
one  foot. 

*'Goody!  You're  going  to  stay,  you're  going  to 
stay!  Take  off  your  hat,  Mr.  Waters!  You're  go- 
ing to  stay!" 

Grasping  the  battered  headpiece  of  his  crony  he 
politely  threw  it  into  a  corner  and  followed  it  with 
his  own. 

During  the  preparation  for  supper,  Waters  ad- 
ministered a  shock  to  his  nervous  system  by  care- 
fully washing  his  face  and  combing  his  hair.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  wistfully  watched  the  rapid  move- 
ments of  Mrs.  Sprangs,  vibrating  between  stove 
and  table.      Lulled   by   the   domestic   clanking   of 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  25 

knives  and  forks  and  plates,  he  closed  his  eye  and 
dreamed  sweetly  after  his  manner.  He  tried  to 
imagine  this  place  as  his  home,  Specks  as  his  boy, 
and  Mrs.  Sprangs 

He  did  not  permit  himself  to  dream  further,  but 
opened  his  eye  and  looked  carelessly  out  of  the  win- 
dow. A  strange  sweet  music  throbbed  in  his  blood. 
The  barren  stretch  of  prairie  upon  which  he  gazed 
abstractedly,  was  touched  with  the  last  sunlight  that 
seemed  to  go  into  his  blood  and  glorify  him. 

At  supper  Waters  ate  much  and  spoke  little,  while 
the  tongue  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  ran  on  pleasantly. 
Waters  listened  and  heard  nothing  but  music,  setting 
his  own  indefinite  meaning  to  the  sound. 

The  mother  readily  permitted  the  boy  to  go  with 
his  crony  next  day;  and  at  the  insistence  of  Specks, 
Waters  stayed  all  night  with  his  crony,  that  they 
might  get  an  earlier  start. 

*'ril  put  up  a  lunch  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Sprangs; 
"I  want  the  boy  to  have  a  good  time,  because  he 
works  so  hard,  when  at  his  age  he  ought  to  be  play- 
ing, Mr.  Waters.  And  he's  a  mighty  big  help  to  his 
mother.  Times  have  been  hard  since  Sprangs  went 
away  and  never  came  back,"  she  said  pensively. 

A  strange  mixed  feeling  of  anger  and  joy  shook 
Mr.  Waters,  and  emboldened  him  to  ask:  ''He's 
dead — Mr.  Sprangs?" 

Mrs.  Sprangs  shook  her  head  s-  '  *'WeVe 
give  him  up." 

That  night  Specks  talked  himself  to  sleep  about 


26  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

sailing  vessels  and  their  captains,  and  buried  treas- 
ure, to  all  of  which  Mr.  Waters  answered  only  in 
monosyllables.  When  at  last  the  boy  slept,  his 
dreams  were  full  of  an  heroic  man  with  flowing  yel- 
low locks,  who  did  impossible  things,  with  his  eye 
glaring  like  a  bulFs-eye  lantern,  and  his  iron-shod 
wooden  leg  making  small  thunder  as  he  ramped 
about  in  a  confusion  of  storm  and  mutiny  and  ship- 
wreck. 

But  the  thoughts  of  the  other  may  be  said  to  have 
been  commonplace.  He  was  contemplating  the  ad- 
visability of  buying  a  can  of  varnish  for  his  wooden 
leg. 

The  next  morning,  the  two  cronies,  reaching  the 
river  at  sunrise,  with  a  dinner  basket,  a  shovel  and 
a  pick  (the  latter  brought  at  the  insistence  of 
Specks),  pushed  off  in  a  small  boat,  and  Waters 
with  the  ease  of  a  skilful  oarsman  pushed  up  stream, 
keeping  near  the  shore  where  the  current  was  light. 
He  was  even  more  garrulous  than  was  his  wont. 
His  face  shone  with  an  inner  sunlight.  He  timed  the 
long  pull  at  the  oars  with  the  wild  air  of  an  old 
sea-song. 

**Guess  you  never  hunted  treasure  afore,*'  he  re- 
marked affably.  "Guess  mebbe  you're  wonderin' 
how  I  come  to  know  about  this  buried  treasure. 
Well,  Specks,  Mr.  Waters  he  helped  to  bury  this  one 
hisself." 

Specks  opened  his  eyes  wide  in  surprise. 

"Ten  years  ago,"  Waters  went  on,  as  he  pulled 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  27 

leisurely  at  the  oars,  "I  was  carpenter  on  the  steam- 
boat Saucy  Heels,  runnin'  between  St.  Louis  and 
Fort  Benton.  One  Spring  we  started  up  the  river 
with  a  cargo  of  whiskey.  Keg  after  keg  of  it,  boy — 
keg  after  keg !  Think  of  it  I  When  the  niggers  was 
a-loadin'  it  at  St.  Louis,  mebbe  I  didn't  get  dry  I 
There  was  enough  liquor  in  that  boat  to  drown  a 
boatload  of  good  swimmers  all  to  onc't.  All  the 
way  up  the  river  I  dreamt  about  swimmin'  in  seas 
of  the  stuff.  It  was  a  fine  moonlight  night  when  we 
got  to  a  place  about  five  miles  above  here.  I  was 
out  onto  the  deck  a-pacin'  up  and  down,  when  all  of 
a  suddent  she  stopped  with  a  chug,  shiverin'  all  over 
like  a  man  does  when  you  shove  a  long  knife  blade 
into  him.  You're  too  young  to  know  about  that, 
though.  She'd  struck  a  snag,  and  you  could  feel  her 
a-settlin'  fast.  Everybody  comes  runnin'  on  deck, 
but  we  couldn't  save  her.  Had  to  lower  the  boats 
and  get  away. 

"Well,  Specks,  when  we  was  pullin'  away,  the  boat 
settled  down  until  only  the  stacks  was  showin'.  I 
pretty  nigh  bawled  when  I  thought  of  all  that  good 
liquor  down  there  at  the  bottom  and  me  naturally 
such  a  thirsty  feller. 

**I  says  to  myself  like  this:  *Mr.  Waters,  you 
get  the  bearin's  of  that  treasure,  and  some  time  or 
other,  mebbe  you'll  be  glad  you  did.'  That's  what  I 
says;  'cause  you  see,  I  knowed  that  she'd  sink  in 
the  sand  and  get  buried  up,  and  'twasn't  likely  no- 
body'd  try  to  raise  her  them  days. 


28  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

''Them  days  the  channel  was  clost  into  the  Ne- 
brasky  side,  and  the  Saucy  went  down  in  the  channel 
within  a  hundred  feet  of  a  high  bluff  that  looked 
something  like  an  Injun's  head  from  down  the  river, 
and  it  had  a  big  bowlder  a-stickin'  out  of  it  for  a 
nose." 

At  that  moment  the  boy  raised  his  eyes  from  the 
animated  face  of  Mr.  Waters  and  looked  up  the 
river.  There,  about  two  miles  across  the  expanse  of 
yellow  water,  was  the  Indian  Head  bluff,  nose  and 
all.  Specks  gave  a  shout  of  triumph.  Waters 
smiled,  but  did  not  turn  around. 

"As  I  was  sayin',"  continued  Waters,  "while  we 
was  a-pullin'  away  in  the  moonlight,  I  got  to  thinkin' 
about  all  that  good  liquor  into  the  Saucy  Heels* 
belly,  and  I  says  to  myself  Td  like  to  be  buried  like 
her  with  a  bellyful  like  her'n,  'cause  it  was  good 
liquor.' 

"That  night  the  crew  made  camp  on  shore.  Along 
about  three  o'clock  when  they  was  all  a-sleepin',  I 
sneaks  away,  and  takin'  one  of  the  smallest  boats, 
I  takes  up  the  river,  keepin'  clost  to  the  bluffs.  About 
sunrise  I  hides  in  the  brush  till  afternoon.  Then  I 
drops  down  the  river,  and  when  I  was  sure  the 
crew  had  gone  on  down  the  river  back  to  Kanes- 
ville,  I  pulls  out  to  where  the  boat  went  down,  and 
ties  up  to  the  smoke-stacks.    Then  I  marks  the  spot. 

"I  looked  up  the  river  and  down  the  river  for 
landmarks.  Up  the  river  was  a  bluff  with  a  sharp 
point  at  the  top  of  it  and  a  big  tree  growin'  out  of 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  29 

one  side  of  It.  Down  the  river  there  was  another 
bluff,  not  so  high  as  the  first,  and  shaped  about  like 
a  loaf  of  bread.  I  drawed  a  line  from  the  bluff 
with  a  tree  on  it  to  the  bluff  that  looked  like  a  loaf 
of  bread.  I  drawed  another  line  from  the  Injun 
Head  bluff  down  to  my  feet,  and  that  last  just  about 
struck  the  other  line  square." 

At  the  last  word  Mr.  Waters'  face  suddenly  dark- 
ened. He  began  to  whistle  softly  under  his  mous- 
tache, but  this  time  it  was  not  the  rollicking  sailor's 
air,  but  a  low,  soft,  caressing  sequence  of  notes,  like 
an  old-fashioned  love-song.  That  which  he  did  next 
was  utterly  Incomprehensible  to  Specks.  Instead  of 
pushing  violently  on  toward  the  buried  treasure,  as 
the  boy  would  have  done.  Waters  turned  the  prow 
of  the  boat  toward  the  shore,  and  pushed  Into  a 
quiet  cove  over  which  a  large  cottonwood  cast  an 
inviting  shade. 

"Let's  rest,"  he  said,  momentarily  breaking  the 
soft  thread  of  the  whistled  air.  Then  he  pulled  the 
boat  on  shore,  and  finding  a  grassy  knoll  under  the 
shade,  he  threw  himself  upon  his  back,  and  for  many 
minutes  there  was  no  sound  but  the  lapping  of  the 
water  on  the  sand  and  the  drone  of  a  faintly  whistled 
melody. 

"Sun's  warm,"  he  remarked  at  length,  with  a 
seeming  irrelevance  that  exasperated  Specks.  "Air's 
soft!"  And  the  melody  began  again.  "Like  to  lay 
onto  my  back  and  breathe — ^jest  breathe." 

After  lighting  his  pipe  he  spoke  again  softly,  like 


30  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

a  man  in  a  dream.  *'Say,  boy,"  he  said,  puffing  vio- 
lently like  an  engine  taking  a  difficult  grade;  *'youVe 
got  a  nice  ma — damned  nice  ma !" 

A  meadow-lark  filled  the  embarrassed  silence  with 
its  clear  notes.  Waters  lazily  watched  the  smoke 
from  his  pipe  ascending  in  graceful  spirals. 

^'Hain't  never  goin'  to  drink  no  more,  Specks,'*  he 
announced.  *'  'Tain't  no  use  drinkin'  liquor,  when 
it  ain't  what  a  feller's  been  thirsty  for  always." 

Several  hours  passed,  during  which  Waters  spoke 
little  except  to  answer  the  questions  of  the  impatient 
Specks. 

^Tm  hungry,"  exclaimed  Specks,  when  he  had  at 
last  run  short  of  questions  and  had  failed  to  arouse 
his  crony.  Together  the  two  went  down  to  the  boat 
to  get  the  lunch.  "You  git  dinner,  and  I'll  be  there 
d'rectly.  Specks,"  said  Waters. 

When  the  meal  had  been  spread.  Specks,  having 
repeatedly  called  without  answer,  went  in  search 
of  his  crony.  Waters  was  leaning  over  the  side  of 
the  boat  and  gazing  at  his  reflection  in  the  water. 

At  the  sound  of  the  boy's  approach,  he  raised  his 
head. 

"Say,  Specks,"  he  asked,  "could  you  notice  my 
bad  eye  much^  pervidin'  you  liked  me  some?" 

After  dinner.  Waters  was  again  provokingly  si- 
lent, except  once  when  he  raised  himself  upon  his 
elbow  and  with  a  rapt  expression  upon  his  face,  said 
with  a  voice  like  a  low  cry  of  supplication:     "They 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  31 

hain't  no  shadders  no  place  I  Did  you  hear  that 
medder  lark?     I  want  to  believe  what  he  saysT* 

Then  he  took  a  jack-knife  out  of  his  pocket  and 
with  infinite  care  cut  a  deep  notch  in  the  upper  end 
of  his  wooden  leg.  ''Once  for  every  time  Fm 
happy,"  he  explained;    and  Specks  was  mystified. 

As  the  two  cronies  drifted  down  stream  toward 
home  that  afternoon,  Waters  said  very  little.  In 
fact,  this  is  all  he  said:  "Specks,  I  guess  Fll  quit 
cussin'  I" 


IV 

The  Treasure 

Upon  the  following  Monday  morning  the  fore- 
man of  the  Trumpet  astonished  Mr.  Simpson  and 
Specks  by  appearing  at  the  office  with  a  carefully 
sandpapered  and  varnished  wooden  leg;  further- 
more, the  ragged  portions  of  his  clothes  had  been 
patched  with  almost  feminine  deftness.  In  addition 
to  this  the  straggling  whiskers  had  been  shaved,  his 
ears  cleansed,  and  the  erstwhile  unkempt  hair  had 
been  washed  and  combed,  and  now  glistened  with 
golden  curls. 

Mr.  Simpson,  being  a  man  of  strong  opinions  and 
few  words,  looked  long  and  critically  over  his 
glasses,  and  finally  expressed  his  surprise  laconically: 
"I'll  be  cussed !'' 

Waters  simply  smiled  at  this  criticism,  and  all 
that  week  was  as  sunny  as  his  locks  of  gold. 

On  the  following  Saturday  evening,  he  Invited 
himself  to  accompany  Specks  home,  to  the  great  de- 
light of  the  boy. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  whistling  softly  in  the  midst 
of  a  broken  sentence,  "I  want  to  talk  business" — 

32 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  33 

more    whistling — "with    your'* — ever    so    softly — 


ma. 


Mrs.  Sprangs,  influenced  by  the  praise  of  his 
crony,  that  Specks  sang  in  ecstatic  crescendo  from 
day  to  day,  received  Waters  with  a  frank  cordiality 
that  put  a  sudden  crimson  in  his  weather-beaten  and 
recently  shaven  cheek. 

An  invitation  to  supper  was  readily  accepted  by 
Waters.  Throughout  the  meal,  he  was  entertain- 
ingly loquacious.  He  drew  endlessly  upon  his  check- 
ered past  for  tales  partly  credible ;  and  his  droll  and 
jovial  manner  drew  from  his  toil-worn  hostess  more 
laughter  than  she  had  known  "since  Sprangs  left," 
as  she  avowed  with  a  sudden  drooping  of  spirits. 

At  the  name  of  Sprangs  the  face  of  the  guest 
darkened  perceptibly,  as  a  sunny  sky  darkens  with 
the  passing  of  a  cloud. 

When  the  dishes  had  been  removed,  the  party  of 
three  withdrew  to  the  "front"  room.  Waters  had 
grown  strangely  silent.  He  fumbled  his  fingers, 
twiddled  his  thumbs,  coughed  and  finally  broke  the 
silence:  "Keer  'f  I  smoke?"  Mrs.  Sprangs  liked 
the  smell  of  smoke.  "Sprangs  used  to  smoke  of 
evenings,"  she  explained. 

Waters  lit  his  pipe  and  puffed  furiously,  hiding 
his  troubled  face  in  a  gray  cloud.  When  the  cloud 
cleared,  he  raised  a  faint  and  embarrassed  voice. 

"Well,  you  see,  Mrs.  Sprangs — "  He  could  get 
no  further,  and  proceeded  only  when  he  had  again 
clouded  his  face  with  smoke,  speaking  through  the 


34  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

cloud.  *'You  see,  me  and  Specks  here  is  cronies. 
We  like  each  other  pretty  dam —  that  is,  we  think 
a  lot  of  one  'nother.  I  says,  mebbe  you'd  oughtn't 
work  so  hard.  Not  as  I'd  be  meddlin',  but — "  He 
blew  out  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  to  hide  his  confu- 
sion— "but — well,  I  want  to  give  the  boy  a  little 
money  now  and  then — so's  he  won't  need  to  work  so 
dam — ,  so  awful  hard,  that  is." 

Frightened  with  his  own  words,  he  endeavored  to 
retrieve  the  disaster.  'Xooks  like  it  might  rain 
soon !"  Feeling  foolish,  he  built  a  blue  fog  about  his 
head  and  blushed  in  it.  When  he  at  length  ventured 
to  emerge  from  his  cloud,  Mrs.  Sprangs  was  slowly 
shaking  her  head. 

"It's  awfully  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Waters;  you're 
awfully  good  to  speak  of  it.  But  it  wouldn't  be 
right,  Mr.  Waters;  it  wouldn't  be  just  right." 

"Well,  I  was  just  a-thinkin',  that's  all,  you  know — 
just  a-thinkin',  that's  all." 

Waters  spoke  as  though  the  matter  were  of  small 
moment  to  him.  Then  he  switched  the  conversation 
disconnectedly  to  the  weather,  as  though  that  were 
of  infinitely  greater  consequence. 

"It  does  look  like  rain;  I  see  a  big  bank  of  clouds 
in  the  East  as  we  come  up." 

In  fact  the  sky  had  been  clear  all  day. 

There  was  a  heavy  silence  for  some  moments, 
during  which  Waters  gave  undue  attention  to  his 
pipe  stem,  which  had  mysteriously  refused  to  draw. 
During  the  few  moments  of  silence,  the  man's  brain 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  35 

was  feverishly  active.  His  face  lightened;  he 
thought  he  had  run  upon  a  scheme  whereby  Mrs. 
Sprangs  would  receive  aid  at  his  hands.  There  was 
the  sunken  cargo  of  fine  liquors.  He  knew  where 
it  had  lain  hidden  these  ten  years.  He  and  the  boy 
would  discover  it  together,  and  he  would  set  up  a 
saloon  and  sell  it.  Half  the  profits  would  thus 
rightfully  belong  to  Specks.  If  Mrs.  Sprangs  re- 
fused to  allow  Specks  to  be  half  owner  of  the  sa- 
loon, why  then  he  would  buy  Specks'  interest  and 
pay  in  monthly  instalments.  Yet  his  heart  sickened 
at  the  thought  of  the  temptation  that  would  thus 
come  to  him.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  he  had 
suddenly  decided  to  forego  further  search  for  the 
treasure  on  the  previous  Sunday,  to  the  great  mysti- 
fication of  Specks. 

But  now  it  was  different.  He  would  discover  it — 
he  and  Specks.  He  would  not  drink — not  a  drop. 
And  maybe — maybe — who  could  tell? — in  the 
Spring  when  the  ice  went  down  the  river  and  the 
robins  came  and  the  meadow-larks  were  singing — 
well,  wouldn't  he  have  plenty  of  money?  Maybe 
then — when  the  hills  were  getting  back  their  green, 
maybe 

Waters  blushed  and  began  to  talk  in  an  agitation 
which  seemed  wholly  unwarranted. 

*'Can  Specks  and  me  go  up  the  river  again  to- 
morrow?" 

Mrs.  Sprangs  readily  consented.  So  early  the 
next  morning  the  two  cronies  put  off  from  the  Cal- 


36  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

houn  landing  in  a  rowboat,  equipped  with  spades, 
picks  and  a  lantern.  There  was  nothing  leisurely 
about  the  manner  of  Waters.  He  rolled  his  sleeves 
above  the  elbows,  braced  his  legs,  and  pulled  up  the 
stream  with  a  long  powerful  stroke. 

By  way  of  enlivening  the  conversation,  which 
Waters  allowed  to  lag.  Specks  made  a  number  of  en- 
thusiastic remarks  concerning  the  quality  of  his 
crony's  rowing. 

^'Learned  it  when  I  was  sailin'  the  sea,"  he  an- 
nounced with  an  air  of  pride.  ''When  I  was  your 
age,  I  was  a-stickin'  type  like  you ;  but  I  didn't  keep 
at  it.  Never  kept  at  nothin' ;  run  away  to  sea ;  and 
I  was  the  cap'n  of  a  sailin'  vessel  onc't,"  he  con- 
tinued, grunting  with  his  long  strokes.  "Yes,  sir, 
Specks,  cap^n!  That's  how  I  lost  my  leg  and  my 
looker,  you  know." 

"How?"  queried  Specks. 

"Piruts!"  explained  Waters  laconically. 

It  was  at  least  the  seventh  explanation  of  the  ca- 
lamity, and  Specks,  in  the  whole-heartedness  of  his 
chumship,  did  his  best  to  believe  them  all  at  once. 
The  required  mental  effort,  however,  produced 
silence. 

An  hour  before  noon  the  two  cronies  had  pulled 
in  to  the  shore  over  which  towered  the  Indian  Head 
bluff.  The  river,  which  had  formerly  flowed  almost 
at  the  foot  of  the  bluff,  was  now  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  distant  from  it,  having  left  a  flat  bottom  of 
sand  covered  with  a  heavy  growth  of  willow  brush. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  37 

The  size  of  the  willows  indicated  that  the  ever  ca- 
pricious Missouri  had  swerved  from  its  old  channel 
within  a  year  or  two  after  the  sinking  of  the  Saucy 
Heels, 

Waters  carefully  examined  the  landscape  and 
readily  located  the  other  two  bluffs;  one  down 
stream  from  the  Indian  Head,  shaped  like  a  loaf  of 
bread;  the  other,  up  stream,  marked  conspicuously 
at  its  summit  with  an  unusually  large  scrub  oak 
standing  alone  against  the  sky. 

Having  placed  himself  on  a  line  between  the  two 
smaller  bluffs.  Waters,  followed  by  Specks,  walked 
rapidly  on  among  the  willows,  until  he  came  to  that 
point  where  a  line  drawn  from  the  Indian  Head's 
summit  to  his  feet  made  a  right  angle  with  the  imag- 
inary line  upon  which  he  stood. 

**This  is  about  the  place.  Specks,"  he  said 
thoughtfully. 

Then  the  two  fell  to  cutting  away  the  willows. 
The  sand  being  moist  was  easily  piled  up.  After 
several  hours  of  hard  labor.  Waters  struck  some- 
thing with  his  pick. 

"There  she  is!"  he  cried,  and  the  two  fell  madly 
to  clearing  away  the  sand,  disclosing  a  level  surface, 
covered  with  rusty  sheet  metal. 

"It's  the  hurricane  deck  of  the  Saucy  Heels T^  de- 
clared Waters;  and  after  a  few  hollow-sounding 
strokes  from  the  pick,  the  rotten  wood  gave  way. 
Soon  Waters  cut  a  hole  large  enough  to  admit  a 
body. 


38  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Lighting  the  lantern,  he  lowered  it  into  the  hole, 
and  the  two,  lying  down,  gazed  into  the  darkness. 
A  gust  of  foul  air  almost  stifled  them.  They  saw 
indistinctly  in  the  ghostly  glow  of  the  flickering  lan- 
tern flame,  the  interior  of  a  steamboat's  cabin.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  mold  and  slime.  As  Specks 
gazed,  he  shivered  with  dread.  The  glow  of  the 
lantern  availed  but  to  cast  a  sickly  illumination  in 
the  putrid  air,  and  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  room, 
with  its  scant  furniture  still  in  order  as  though  noth- 
ing had  happened,  was  like  a  sick  man's  memory  of 
a  melancholy  dream. 

"It's  the  old  place,"  muttered  Waters  musingly; 
"the  old  place." 

Then,  with  a  sudden  movement,  he  slung  the  lan- 
tern bail  over  one  arm,  threw  his  legs  into  the  hole, 
and  letting  himself  down  at  arm's  length,  dropped. 

The  sound  of  his  iron-shod  wooden  leg,  striking 
upon  the  damp  boards  of  the  floor,  was  sepulchral. 
It  suggested  the  impatient  grave-digger,  kicking  an 
unusually  large  clod  onto  the  rough-box. 

Specks  lay  upon  his  stomach,  stricken  motionless 
with  the  dread  mystery  of  the  place.  He  heard  the 
dull  whine  of  rusty  hinges ;  then  the  sound  of  cough- 
ing, and  the  iron-shod  leg  stumping  on  into  another 
room.  The  lantern  glow  was  swallowed  in  the  heavy 
darkness.  Fainter,  fainter,  the  reverberating  sound 
of  coughing  and  the  stumping  of  the  wooden  leg 
came  up  to  him.  Then  these  were  swallowed  up  as 
though  drunken  in  by  the  impenetrable  darkness. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  39 

and  there  was  no  sound  but  the  occasional  drip  of 
water,  echoing  dismally  In  the  cavernous  night  of  the 
place. 

"Mr.  Waters,  oh,  Mr.  Waters!"  Specks'  voice 
rumbled  down  the  darkness,  like  the  sound  of  a  dis- 
tant explosion;  then  the  awful  silence,  pierced  by 
the  drip-drop  of  the  water. 

As  Specks  listened,  he  fancied  he  heard  a  faint 
answer,  yet  he  was  not  sure.  It  might  have  been 
the  far  cry  of  a  belated  echo.  A  great  fear  seized 
him.  Had  his  crony  met  with  an  accident  In  the 
gruesome  place  ?  He  thought  of  going  to  the  aid  of 
his  crony,  and  shivered.  No,  he  would  wait  awhile; 
and  anyway,  he  had  no  lantern.  Half  an  hour 
passed.  It  seemed  a  week.  Specks  waited,  his  ears 
strained  in  the  heavy  silence,  and  his  eyes  strained 
in  the  heavy  darkness.    An  hour  passed. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  hoarse  muffled  song;  it  came 
up  from  the  hollow  earth  as  though  the  dead  were 
singing  with  their  mouths  half  full  of  grave  dust. 

All  to  the  tune  of  the  booming  sail, 
The  shriek  of  the  blowing  sp-r-ay. 
The  devil  he  waltzed  up  over  the  rail 
And  led  the  ship  as-tr-ay; 
Tra-le-la-le-la-le-O 
Tra-le-la-le-lay  1 

Oh,  I  was  the  cap'n  of  the  ship, 
And  I  was  a  merry  so-ul ; 


40  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

The  fishes  stripped  my  skeleton, 
The  devil  got  my  so-ul ; 
With  a  tra-le-la-le-la-le-O 
And  a  tra-le-la-le-lay  I 

And  it's  what  if  the  tides  go  in  and  out, 
And  what  if  the  old  world  gro-ans, 
I  sing  in  the  emerald  halls  of  the  sea, 
And  jig  with  my  rattling  bo-nes; 
With  a  tra-le-la-le-la-le-O 
And  a  tra-le-la-le-lay. 
Oh-ho, 
Tra-la-lay  1 

The  song  reverberated  through  the  damp  cham- 
bers, until  it  seemed  a  hundred  wheezing  throats, 
dry  with  grave  rot,  took  up  the  nonsensical  refrain. 
As  Specks  peered  into  the  darkness  and  heard  the 
song,  he  shivered  as  one  whom  a  nightmare  holds 
speechless. 

**With  an  oh-ho, 
Tra-le-la-le-lay." 

The  song  suddenly  ceased,  as  though  a  great 
sea  wind  had  blown  it  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  singer. 
There  grew  up  from  the  black  depths  a  sound  as  of 
a  number  of  men  quarrelling.  There  were  cursings 
and  blows — all  muffled  as  sounds  in  a  dream. 

Could  it  be  possible.  Specks  thought,  that  there 
really  were  such  things  as  ghosts,   and  that   Mr. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  41 

Waters  was  quarrelling  over  the  treasure  with  those 
who  had  followed  the  river  years  before? 

Specks  suddenly  remembered  the  words  of  Wat- 
ers: "They  hain't  many  folks  what's  real  true 
cronies."  Was  he  a  real  true  crony  if  he  left  Mr. 
Waters  in  possible  danger  now?  No,  he  would  go 
in  search  of  his  crony! 

He  gathered  a  bunch  of  long  slough  grass,  and 
twisted  it  into  torches.  With  these  under  his  arm, 
he  jumped  down  into  the  boat's  cabin,  rolling  over 
and  over  on  the  slimy  floor.  When  he  arose,  he 
stood  transfixed  and  shivering  with  fear  for  several 
moments.  Then  he  took  a  match  from  his  pocket, 
and  lit  a  torch.  The  flaring  light  made  him  bolder. 
He  tried  to  whistle;    it  wouldn't  come. 

"Mr.  Waters!  Oh,  Mr.  Waters!"  he  cried,  as 
he  pushed  through  the  half  open  door  of  the  room. 

"With  an  oh-ho, 
Tra-le-la-le-lay." 

Only  the  wild  fragment  of  a  refrain  came  for 
answer.  Specks  found  himself  in  a  room  in  which 
rotting  ropes  and  rusty  chains  were  piled.  There 
was  a  stairway  leading  down  into  the  darkness  ahead 
of  him. 

"Tra-le-la-le-la-le-lay, 
Tra-le-la-le-oh ! 
With  an  oh-ho, 
Tra-le-la-le-lay!" 


42  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

The  song  came  up  the  stairs.  Specks  pushed  on 
and  started  down  the  steps,  that  yielded  with  an 
oozing  sound  under  his  feet.  When  he  was  half 
way  down,  a  step  gave  way,  and  he  tumbled  to  the 
bottom,  landing  in  ooze  and  slime  and  total  dark- 
ness, the  torch  having  been  extinguished  in  the  fall. 
Specks  struck  another  match,  and  found  his  torches. 
He  lit  one,  and  proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the 
song,  which  was  louder  now.  He  came  to  another 
half  open  door  and  another  flight  of  stairs,  which  he 
descended.  Now  for  the  first  time,  having  become 
accustomed  to  the  darkness.  Specks  noticed  the  foul- 
ness of  the  air;  it  almost  stifled  him.  The  torch 
burned  with  an  impoverished  light  that  filled  the 
shadows  with  ghosts.  Gasping,  he  held  the  torch 
high  above  his  head  and  pushed  on  toward  the  wild 
song,  sometimes  rising  to  a  shout  and  sometimes 
dwindling  to  an  eerie  croon. 

He  suddenly  found  himself  standing  in  another 
doorway,  through  which  he  could  see  a  long  room, 
stacked  full  of  kegs,  row  on  row  up  to  the  ceiling. 
The  song  came  out  from  among  the  kegs,  and  Specks 
hurried  toward  it,  half  recognizing,  as  he  thought, 
the  voice  of  his  crony. 

"Oh  the  devil  and  me 
Went  out  to  sea 
With  a  tra " 

As  though  the  singer  had  been  taken  overboard 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  43 

by  the  wash  of  a  tremendous  sea,  the  song  ceased 
abruptly. 

**Stand  back  there!" 

The  sharp  words,  hurled  through  the  shadows  in 
the  coarse  gutturals  of  anger,  chilled  Specks  like  a 
gust  of  cold  wind.  At  a  distance  of  about  twenty 
feet  from  him  he  saw  Waters,  leaning  against  the 
kegs.  The  lantern,  with  a  smashed  globe,  lay  near. 
He  had  unbuckled  his  wooden  leg,  and  now  grasped 
it  by  the  smaller  end.  The  dim  light  falling  upon  his 
face  illumined  a  most  terrible  countenance.  His  eye 
was  dilated  with  the  darkness,  which  had  been  shat- 
tered by  the  boy's  torch,  and  he  blinked  wildly  In  the 
unaccustomed  light.  He  was  haggard,  and  the  light 
deepened  the  lines  in  his  face.  His  hat  had  fallen 
off,  and  his  long  ruffled  hair  hung  in  tangles  about  his 
forehead  and  ears.  A  keg  in  one  of  the  tiers  near  by 
was  dripping  from  a  shattered  bung.  This  ex- 
plained matters  to  Specks.  Waters  and  the  Zodiac 
had  gotten  tangled  again. 

"Stand  back  there  I  Hain't  I  the  cap'n  of  this 
here  ship?" 

Waters  swung  his  wooden  leg  furiously  about  his 
head,  the  swinging  straps  at  the  knee  whistling 
strangely  in  the  stuffy  place.  He  let  the  missile  fly 
at  the  boy's  head.  Specks  ducked,  and  the  wooden 
leg  struck  his  torch,  extinguishing  it.  As  the  dark- 
ness shut  in  about  him,  he  shrieked  and  dropped 
upon  his  stomach.  He  lay  as  close  as  possible  to  the 
slimy  floor  and  shivered. 


44  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Oh,  Mr.  Waters!"  he  whimpered  softly,  hoping 
to  soothe  his  crony.  "Oh,  Mr.  Waters,  I'm  your 
crony — don't  you  know?" 

The  shock  of  the  returning  darkness  and  the 
shriek  had  sobered  Waters  partially.  "Oh,  boy, 
boy — did  I  kill  you?    Yell  again!    You  ain't  dead?" 

"N-o-o!"  whimpered  Specks. 

Waters  crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees  through 
the  darkness,  till  he  reached  the  body  of  Specks, 
stretched  face  downward  on  the  slimy  floor,  but  very 
much  alive  and  quivering  with  fright.  He  put  his 
arms  tenderly  about  his  crony,  and  they  both  wept 
hysterically  for  awhile. 

Waters  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  a  match,  hopped 
over  to  the  globeless  lantern  and  lit  it.  Then  Specks 
recovered  the  wooden  leg  and  helped  buckle  it  on. 
Waters  was  now  fairly  sober,  but  trembling  nerv- 
ously. 

"Look,  Specks!"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  kegs, 
piled  tier  on  tier  to  the  ceiling,  "thousands  of  dol- 
lars. Specks,  thousands  of  dollars!" 

The  prospect  of  sudden  wealth  destroyed  all  fear 
for  Specks.  He  immediately  began  planning  means 
for  carrying  a  small  cargo  down  to  Calhoun.  Al- 
though Waters  was  weakened  with  his  recent  intox- 
ication, the  two  managed  to  get  five  kegs  of  the 
liquor  to  the  room  in  the  upper  cabin  which  they  had 
first  entered.  They  stood  several  kegs  on  end,  and 
Waters  was  thus  enabled  to  reach  the  hole  in  the 
roof,  and  draw  himself  up.     Then,  with  the  use  of 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  45 

a  rusty  chain,  found  in  the  next  room,  the  kegs  were 
hoisted  through  the  hole. 

Having  covered  the  opening  carefully  with  wil- 
lows and  sand,  that  the  place  might  not  be  discov- 
ered should  any  one  pass  that  way,  which  was  quite 
improbable  in  that  early  day,  the  two  cronies  loaded 
the  boat  with  the  liquor  and  started  down  the  river. 

As  they  floated  down  the  stream  in  the  cloudless 
starry  night,  the  two  organized  the  firm  of  Waters 
&  Co.,  Liquor  Dealers,  and  Waters  announced  that 
he  would  run  the  business,  with  Specks  as  silent 
partner. 

Then  the  conversation  languished.  The  senior 
member  of  the  new  liquor  firm  was  wrestling  with 
his  conscience.  For  half  an  hour  he  was  endeavor- 
ing to  reason  away  a  persistent  shame  over  his  recent 
entanglement  with  the  Zodiac. 

That  which  he  said,  when  at  last  he  broke  the 
silence,  was  incomprehensible  to  Specks,  but  no  doubt 
it  meant  much  to  Waters :  "Specks,  you  have  always 
got  to  figger  on  a  feller  havin'  guts !" 


Waters  &  Co.,  Liquor  Dealers 

When  Waters  came  to  the  printing  office  on  the 
following  Monday  morning,  he  made  an  announce- 
ment that  fairly  knocked  the  wind  out  of  the  Trum- 
pet. It  did  not  blow  for  three  weeks.  The  foreman 
tendered  his  resignation  to  Mr.  Simpson,  and  in- 
sisted that  the  same  should  take  effect  at  once.  He 
spoke  his  piece  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  triumph 
in  his  eye.  The  speech  in  which  he  explained  that  he 
was  forced  to  take  this  sudden  step  through  an  un- 
foreseen stroke  of  good  fortune,  had  cost  him  sev- 
eral sleepless  hours  the  night  before,  when  he  had 
drawn  on  his  memory  of  the  pompous  war  edi- 
torials he  had  set  up,  that  his  resignation  might  be 
couched  in  terms  befitting  the  dignity  of  the  senior 
member  of  the  firm  of  Waters  &  Co. 

Mr.  Simpson  built  a  blue  fog  of  profanity  about 
himself,  and  said  things  in  it  somewhat  derogatory 
of  the  general  character  of  Luck.  When  the  first 
burst  of  wrath  had  allowed  the  blue  fog  to  clear 
away,  the  foreman  had  departed,  and  the  sound  of 
his  retreating  iron-shod  leg  came  in  faintly  at  the 
door. 

46 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  47 

That  day,  there  was  a  new  topic  under  discussion 
at  the  grocery  store.  For  weeks  past,  no  new  bad 
man  had  been  reported,  no  Indian  "skeer"  had  been 
scattered  by  the  freighters,  and  the  wisdom  of  the 
loungers  had  been  lavished  upon  the  unsuspecting 
leaders  of  the  great  war.  But  upon  this  particular 
day  the  war  was  shamefully  neglected. 

"They's  somethin*  mysteerus  to  it  I"  said  the  gro- 
cery man  to  his  audience;     "somethin'  mysteerus!" 

"Who?  What?"  inquired  a  newly  arrived  dele- 
gate. 

'Why,  ain't  you  heerd?  That  one-eyed,  wooden- 
legged  printer  and  the  speckled  youngster  of  the 
widder's  is  building  a  saloon  down  by  the  river!" 

"A  saloon?" 

*'A  saloon!" 

"And  Waters  has  throwed  up  his  job !" 

"Throwed  it  up?" 

"Throwed  it  up!" 

"Somethin'  mysteerus  about  it!" 

"Looks  that  away!" 

"Where'll  they  git  the  liquor?" 

The  grocer  smiled  a  superior  smile  for  answer. 

"That  Waters  is  a  strange  feller!" 

"Folks  hes  it  that  he  was  onc't  a  pirut!" 

"Apirut?" 

"A  pirut!" 

"What's  the  boy  a-helpin'  him  for?" 

"Hain't  you  heerd?" 

Most  of  the  audience  shook  its  head  negatively. 


48  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Hain't  Mrs.  Sprangs  a  widder?" 

The  collective  mouth  of  the  audience  stretched 
itself  into  a  knowing  grin. 

"Sweet  onto  one  'notherP' 

The  collective  mouth  of  the  audience  laughed. 

"Leastwise,  that's  what  folks  is  sayin'." 

"But  the  liquor?" 

"Mysteerus." 

That  afternoon  there  was  not  a  prune  nor  a  pipe- 
ful of  tobacco  sold  at  the  grocery  store.  The  social 
centre  of  Calhoun  had  moved  down  to  the  river, 
and  the  shack,  which  Waters  and  Specks  were  build- 
ing, was  that  social  centre.  While  Waters  sawed 
and  hammered,  Specks  was  engaged  with  a  cotton- 
wood  board  and  a  can  of  paint,  with  which  he  was 
elaborating  a  sign,  which,  when  completed,  read  as 
follows : 

Berried  Trashure  Buffit 
Waters  &  Compny 

The  onlookers  gasped  with  wonder  as  the  sign 
developed. 

"Buried  Treasure?" 

"Buried  Treasure!" 

"Ah!" 

"Oh!" 

"But  the  liquor?" 

"Mysteerus!" 

"Looks  like  a  pirut!" 

"Who  knows?  Mebbe  that's  why  he's  got  only 
one  leg  and  one  eye!" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  49 

*'But  the  liquor?" 

**Mysteerus!" 

When  the  two  cronies  had  finished  their  work  for 
the  day,  the  crowd  followed  them  up  the  street,  keep- 
ing at  a  distance  compatible  with  piratical  possibili- 
ties. That  night  the  convention  at  the  grocery  store 
did  not  adjourn  until  the  lamp  burned  out.  The 
convention,  unconventionally,  came  to  a  conclusion: 
That  Waters  was  an  ex-pirate;  that  Waters  and 
Mrs.  Sprangs  were  sweet  "onto  one  'nother,"  and 
that  the  liquor  problem  was  utterly  mysterious. 

But  the  sensation  of  the  week  reached  its  climax 
on  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  when  the  burled 
treasure  buffet  opened  for  business  with  five  kegs 
of  liquor  in  stock. 

An  habitual  lounger,  arriving  late  at  the  grocery 
store,  out  of  breath  and  wiping  his  moustache, 
dropped  the  news  In  among  the  loungers,  dozing  in 
the  morning  heat,  as  a  small  boy  drops  his  stone  into 
a  slumbering  frog  pond,  and  with  like  effect. 

"Huh!" 

"Just  come  from  there!" 

"Where'd  they  get  It?" 

"Dunno." 

"Good  liquor?" 

"Slips  down  like  goosegrease!" 

One  lounger  got  up  from  the  counter  where  he 
had  been  reclining,  and  sauntered  out  Into  the  street. 
The  gossip  went  on. 

"Buried!" 


50  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Buried  r' 

"Buried  Treasure  I** 

A  second  lounger  dropped  silently  out  of  the  con- 
ference. Then  a  third  and  a  fourth,  until  the  grocer, 
finding  himself  alone,  got  up,  stretched  himselfj 
yawned,  and  after  carefully  locking  his  front  door, 
hurried  toward  the  indisputable  social  centre. 

When  he  entered  the  shack,  which  was  the  "Buried 
Treasure  Buffet,"  he  found  the  place  crowded. 
Waters,  behind  the  cottonwood  bar,  was  beating 
rapid  bass  with  his  iron-shod  foot  to  the  tenor  of 
the  silver  which  he  raked  into  the  till.  His  one 
eye  had  more  than  the  brilliance  of  the  ordinary  two. 
His  hair  was  carefully  combed.  His  tanned  neck 
was  imprisoned  in  a  high  white  collar,  and  his  face 
glistened  with  triumph — assisted  by  a  recent  shave. 

A  bare-footed  boy  gazed  in  at  the  door  with  a 
light  on  his  face  that  made  his  tan  and  freckles  trans- 
parent. He  was  engaged  in  hopping  about  on  either 
foot,  and  making  fantastic  motions  to  attract  the 
busy  eye  of  Waters.  When  for  a  moment  he  was 
successful,  he  winked  a  wise  wink  as  of  one  who 
means  to  say:     "We  know!" 

"Where^d  you  get  it?"  inquired  a  customer,  brac- 
ing himself  to  hold  his  place  at  the  bar,  and  wiping 
his  mouth  luxuriously. 

"Where  in  thunder  did  you  get  it?  Gimme 
Another!" 

"Well,  now,"  began  Waters,  drawling  with  an  air 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  51 

that  savored  of  mystery  and  wisdom;  "has  any  of 
you  fellers  ever  heard  of  magic?"  Then  he  hurried 
to  fill  another  bunch  of  glasses  at  a  dripping  tap. 

*'Magic?" 

"Uh  huh,"  answered  Waters,  and  he  accompanied 
his  laconic  reply  with  a  movement  of  the  hands  like 
a  prestidigitator.     Everybody  looked  at  everybody. 

*'Well,  mebbe  you're  lyin'  and  mebbe  you  hain't — 
gimme  'nother!" 

By  sundown.  Fort  Calhoun  was  on  its  sea-legs. 
The  night  was  like  a  night  of  celebration.  Every- 
body seemed  to  be  out  on  the  street  making  noises. 
The  very  dogs  caught  the  spirit  of  the  hour  and 
howled  up  and  down  the  town. 

Late  in  the  night,  the  senior  member  of  the  firm 
of  Waters  &  Co.  closed  and  barred  the  door  of  the 
Buffet;  then  he  counted  his  money.  The  result  al- 
most staggered  him.  This  sudden  success  gave  him 
a  wild  desire  to  celebrate  the  events  of  the  day. 

He  took  a  glass  from  the  bar,  placed  it  under  the 
tap,  and  ran  it  full.  Tremblingly  he  put  it  to  his 
lips  that  burned  to  receive  the  draught.  A  mist 
passed  before  him.  In  the  mist  was  the  vision  of  a 
little  weather-beaten  house.  Then  the  vision  faded 
and  was  replaced  by  a  neat  "front"  room  with  a 
trim,  plump  woman  sitting  in  it.  The  face  of  the 
woman  was  patient  and  kind.  And  lying  upon  his 
stomach  at  the  feet  of  the  woman  was  a  boy  with 
a  tanned  and  freckled  face. 


52  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

The  mist  passed,  and  Waters  was  staring  upon 
the  glass  of  brown  liquor.  A  light  went  over  the 
face  of  the  man.  He  dropped  the  glass  to  the  floor, 
and  ground  it  into  fragments  under  his  foot. 


VI 

The  Cry  of  the  Lonesome 

The  Summer  grew  old  and  the  fame  of  the  Burled 
Treasure  grew  big  in  the  land.  It  reached  even  so 
far  as  Omaha  City.  Steamboats,  that  ordinarily 
plied  in  contempt  past  the  little  port  of  Calhoun, 
began  to  put  in  for  a  few  hours  to  accommodate 
passengers  who  were  lured  by  the  mystery  of  this 
excellent  liquor  to  be  had  of  Waters  &  Co.  Freight- 
ers, cowboys,  settlers,  came  many  miles  as  pilgrims 
to  test  the  magic  of  this  Western  Lourdes.  So  heavy 
was  the  liquor  trade  that  Waters  &  Co.  made  reg- 
ular nocturnal  trips  twice  a  week  to  the  sunken  cargo, 
and  the  wonder  of  the  thing  grew  into  an  almost 
superstitious  awe,  when  an  exhausted  supply  of  the 
evening  was  replaced  in  the  morning. 

As  the  Summer  passed,  the  character  of  Waters 
became  grave.  He  drank  no  more,  and  the  care- 
less manner  which  characterized  him  on  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  Calhoun,  passed  away.  He  joked  no 
more  with  Specks;  he  told  no  more  tales  of  mutiny 
and  shipwreck.  One  fixed  idea  swayed  him.  He, 
who  had  wandered  all  his  life  among  men,  com- 
panionless  and  lonesome,  was  about  to  hear  a  kind 

53 


54  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

voice  of  companionship,  feel  the  touch  of  a  warm 
hand  in  the  darkness.  In  the  stillness  of  the  years 
he  had  waited,  and  his  ears  were  busy  fashioning 
the  long-awaited  voice.  In  the  darkness  of  the  world 
he  had  walked,  and  his  dream  toiled  to  build  pro- 
digious dawns  in  the  heavy  darkness. 

During  the  first  week  of  his  business  career,  Wat- 
ers formulated  the  plan  of  his  life.  He  would  wait 
until  his  share  of  the  earnings  of  the  firm  should 
reach  a  thousand  dollars ;  and  then — well,  then,  he 
would  build  his  dawn;  he  would  hear  the  voice,  he 
would  feel  the  hand. 

Every  Saturday  evening  he  had  given  his  crony 
half  the  earnings  of  the  trade,  insisting  that  this  was 
merely  a  weekly  instalment  of  the  purchase  price 
of  Specks'  half  interest  in  the  discovery. 

Mrs.  Sprangs  had  ceased  to  take  in  washing,  and 
consequently  the  gossips  of  the  village  worked  over- 
time. 

One  Sunday  morning  in  early  September,  Waters 
arose  early  and  after  carefully  cleaning  his  var- 
nished wooden  leg,  dressed  himself  in  a  new  suit. 
When  he  appeared  on  the  main  street  of  the  village 
a  sensation  was  the  result.  Waters  in  a  new  suit 
was  a  paradox.  But  he  was  blind  to  the  eyes  riveted 
upon  him,  deaf  to  the  babble  of  loungers  about  him. 
The  night  before  he  had  counted  the  thousandth  dol- 
lar, and  that  day  he  would  build  his  dawn. 

He  walked  rapidly  up  the  street,  and  as  he  walked, 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  55 

a  faint  light  grew  in  his  soul,  as  when  the  first  spark 
of  the  dawn  glows  with  the  breath  of  the  morning. 
When  he  had  come  in  sight  of  the  little  weather- 
beaten  cottage,  about  which  his  dreams  had  thrown 
a  halo,  he  stopped  suddenly,  and  stood,  nervously 
beating  time  in  the  sand  with  his  wooden  leg  to  some 
tune  in  his  head.  At  length,  he  wheeled  slowly 
about  and  retraced  his  steps. 

The  spark  sank  into  the  grayness  of  ashes. 

After  walking  slowly  to  the  other  end  of  the 
town,  he  turned  as  if  by  sudden  inspiration,  and 
walked  rapidly  up  the  street  again,  past  the  wonder- 
ing loungers,  whom  he  neither  saw  nor  heard. 

"Airin'  his  new  duds!"  was  the  unanimous  ver- 
dict. 

When  Waters  again  reached  the  spot  where  he 
had  stopped  before,  he  stopped  again,  started  nerv- 
ously, stopped,  pushed  the  sand  about  with  his  foot, 
and  again  turned,  slowly  walking  down  the  street, 
his  head  drooped,  his  lips  moving  with  unspoken 
words.  All  that  day  he  was  not  seen  again.  Had 
the  loungers  witnessed  the  manner  in  which  he  spent 
that  day,  public  sentiment  might  have  hinted  at  in- 
sanity. 

He  sat  upon  a  heap  of  sand  near  the  river,  at  in- 
tervals tossing  pebbles  with  infinite  care  into  the 
muddy  stream.  **If  I  hit  that  bubble,"  he  would 
mutter  to  himself,  "she  will;  if  I  miss,  she  won't. 
She  will — she  won't — she  will — she  won't."     The 


56  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

words  ran  persistently  in  his  head  like  the  fragments 
of  a  half-forgotten  song. 

For  hours  he  sat  with  his  elbows  upon  his  knees, 
and  his  face  resting  in  his  hands,  gazing  into  the 
muddy  water.  At  length  he  was  aroused  by  an  un- 
usually large  cluster  of  bubbles,  floating  into  the  area 
of  his  vision.  He  grasped  a  stone  at  his  feet  and 
hurled  it  powerfully  at  the  floating  bubbles,  as 
though  he  were  striking  at  an  imaginary  foe.  The 
missile  went  wide  of  the  mark.  Shaken  with  sudden 
and  mysterious  anger.  Waters  leaped  to  his  feet  and 
stalked  toward  the  town.  That  evening,  in  the  late 
twilight,  a  stumping  figure  hurried  through  the  dark 
back  streets  of  the  village  toward  the  house  of  the 
widow.  Unfalteringly  it  approached  a  window, 
from  which  a  shaft  of  light  fell,  cutting  a  space  of 
kindness  from  the  deepening  gloom. 

It  was  Waters.  He  stood  in  the  shadow  and 
looked  within  wistfully,  as  one  hungry  might  look 
through  the  windows  of  a  banquet  hall.  Mrs. 
Sprangs  sat  near  the  table  reading.  Her  face  had 
lost  some  of  its  weariness,  and  Waters  felt  a  great 
joy.  Near  the  woman  sat  Specks,  also  reading.  The 
scene  was  like  a  draught  of  wine  to  the  man  with- 
out.   It  was  a  far  gaze  from  the  heights  of  Pisgah. 

Waters  approached  the  door,  and  lifted  his  hand 
in  act  to  knock;  faltered,  then  slowly  removed  his 
hand.  As  he  did  so,  his  gaze  fell  upon  his  wooden 
leg,  smitten  with  the  shaft  of  light  from  the  window. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  57 

His  heart  sank;  a  cloud  went  across  his  dawn. 
Slowly  turning,  he  walked  away,  and  did  not  look 
back  until  he  was  out  of  the  village  with  the  open 
prairie  about  him. 

The  first  peep  of  the  rising  moon  silvered  the 
hilltops.  Waters  walked  in  a  dream  of  bitterness. 
"  'Tain't  no  use,"  he  muttered,  **  'tain't  no  use.  She'd 
be  ashamed  of  my  kicker  and  my  bad  eye.  'Tain't 
no  varnish  that  can  varnish  me  I"  After  walking 
some  time  in  silence  he  suddenly  found  himself  upon 
a  bluff,  overlooking  the  far  stretches  of  the  Missouri, 
its  turbid  waters  transmuted  into  silver  with  the 
moon  which  had  now  cleared  the  horizon.  Before 
him,  the  river  lay  a  glinting  lake,  that  narrowed 
with  distance  into  a  thread  of  tarnished  silver,  ex- 
tending into  the  mist. 

As  he  gazed,  the  far  cry  of  a  pack  of  coyotes  in 
the  shadows  of  the  hills  shivered  icily  through  the 
air,  as  though  the  cold  and  lonesome  light  had  grown 
vocal.  It  was  a  cry  of  kinship  to  Waters.  The  in- 
stinct of  the  lonesome  wild  animal  in  a  strange  jungle 
seized  him.  Involuntarily  he  raised  his  face  to  the 
sky,  and  answered  the  plaint  of  the  coyotes  with  a 
long  loud  cry  that  was  less  than  half  human.  The 
echoes  came  back  faintly  from  the  bluffs  and  the 
heavy  silence  of  the  night  returned. 

As  Waters  gazed  into  the  broad  translucent  night, 
a  feeling  of  reverence  shook  him,  as  a  wind  shakes 
a  scrub  oak  clinging  to  a  barren  bluff.     The  bitter- 


58  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

ness  of  the  man's  heart  died  out.  He  extended  his 
arms  into  the  silvered  night  and  hurled  his  voice 
outward  into  the  empty  spaces. 

"Le'  me  be  happy  I"  he  cried. 

But  for  the  faint  echoes  of  his  own  voice,  the 
night  seemed  to  contain  only  the  cold  glow  of  the 
moon.  Involuntarily  Waters  knelt  and  hid  his  face 
upon  his  knees.  He  remained  thus  for  some  time. 
Then  he  leaped  to  his  feet  as  though  a  hand  had 
touched  him.  Hope  had  returned,  and  there  was  a 
small  rift  in  the  cloud  that  hung  across  his  dawn. 

Was  it  that  he  had  heard  or  felt  God? 

Perhaps.  Yet  it  was  this  thought  that  ran  like 
a  merry  lilt  in  his  brain:  "/  will  send  to  St.  Louis 
for  a  cork  kicker T*  * 


VII 
The  Cork  Leg 

During  the  next  week,  a  southbound  packet  put 
in  at  Calhoun.  While  drawing  a  glass  of  **Buried 
Treasure'*  for  the  captain,  Waters  opened  a  conver- 
sation. He  stated  that  he  was  interested  in  cork 
legs.  The  conversation  ended  satisfactorily  by  Wat- 
ers appointing  the  captain  agent  for  the  purchase  of 
a  cork  leg  in  St.  Louis,  and  by  placing  an  adequate 
sum  in  the  hands  of  the  captain,  including  purchase 
price  and  a  liberal  commission. 

"I'll  send  her  up  by  the  first  boat  north,"  said  the 
captain. 

When  the  boat  pulled  out  into  the  stream.  Waters 
stood  on  the  landing,  watching  wistfully.  He  waited 
until  the  sound  of  the  exhaust  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  and  died  down  a  bend  of  the  river.  Then 
he  gazed  abstractedly  across  the  stretch  of  yellow 
water,  watching  the  trail  of  smoke  slowly  fade  into 
the  blue  sky. 

That  day  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  strange 
restlessness  for  Waters.  Often  he  caught  himself 
leaning  idly  across  the  bar  while  thirsty  customers 

59 


6o  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

waited.  Mentally  he  was  viewing  himself  upon  two 
legs  that  had  real  shoes  at  the  ends  of  them. 

Would  the  sun  persist  in  sticking  in  the  sky  when 
it  should  have  set  hours  before?  Would  the  nights 
never  pass?  And  why  did  the  dawns  lie  so  lazily  in 
the  east  when  they  should  have  been  burning  the 
zenith  or  racing  down  the  decline  of  the  evening? 
Often,  half  unconsciously,  Waters  would  wander 
down  to  the  landing  and  gaze  down  stream,  strain- 
ing his  eyes  to  catch  the  first  far  hint  of  smoke  from 
a  steamboat's  funnels.  Every  sound  startled  him; 
he  was  constantly  listening  for  the  rumble  of  a 
steamboat's  whistle.  His  senses  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing became  abnormal.  They  monopolized  his  brain 
with  torrents  of  false  messages.  He  hardly  felt  or 
tasted  or  smelled;  he  only  heard  and  saw — heard 
steamboat  whistles,  saw  the  smoke  of  packets. 

For  weeks  he  lived  in  such  suspense,  the  slave  of 
the  two  usurping  senses.  In  vain  he  strained  his 
ears  for  the  far  rumble  of  the  whistle;  in  vain  he 
gazed  for  the  thin  trails  of  smoke  in  the  south. 

But  one  day,  near  the  last  of  October,  the  cloud 
appeared  and  the  whistle  sounded.  Waters  was 
ecstatic.  He  threw  his  hat  in  the  air  and  shouted 
until  he  was  hoarse.  Then  he  laughed  until  he  was 
sad,  and  tears  came.  The  grocery  store  joked  that 
night  over  the  supposed  drunkenness  of  Waters. 

It  was  late  evening  when  the  boat  pulled  in  to  the 
landing.  Waters  was  the  first  to  put  his  foot  on  the 
gang-plank.    The  question  which  he  put  to  the  cap- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  6i 

tain,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  put  it,  convinced 
the  crowd  of  listeners  as  to  the  temulent  condition 
of  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  of  Waters  &  Co. 

'Where's  my  legf 

The  captain  remarked  with  a  superior  smile  that 
he'd  burn  eternally  if  he  knew;  it  surely  was  not 
fastened  to  him! 

Waters  slinked  out  of  the  crowd  of  merrymakers, 
who  were  preparing  for  a  dance  on  board  the  **last 
boat  up."  The  first  and  last  boats  of  a  season  were 
events  in  the  life  of  every  little  river  town,  and  were 
received  as  such.  This  boat  was  on  its  way  to  the 
north,  where  it  would  winter. 

The  promised  dawn  of  Waters  died  out  like  a 
flame  unfed.  He  walked  slowly  up  to  the  buffet,  en- 
tered and  turned  the  lock  behind  him.  Without 
lighting  the  lamp,  he  went  behind  the  bar,  took  a 
glass  and  sat  down  by  a  tapped  keg  of  liquor.  He 
ran  the  glass  full  and  drank  it  at  a  swallow.  This 
was  followed  by  a  half  dozen  others. 

"  'Tain't  no  use,"  he  muttered  feebly,  like  a  sick 
man;  "  'tain't  no  damned  use." 

The  distant  sound  of  the  fiddle  and  the  shuffle  of 
dancing  feet  were  heard  dimly  from  the  boat. 

"This  here  world  was  made  for  wolves  at  first," 
he  mumbled,  but  half  audibly,  for  the  kegs  and  the 
bar  began  to  whirl  in  a  giddy  dance.  Everything 
was  dancing.  The  people  were  dancing  on  the  boat; 
the  very  darkness  was  dancing  about  him. 


62  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Made  for  wolves,"  he  reiterated  with  a  dizzy 
swing  in  his  voice;  "but  they  chased  all  the  damned 
wolves  out  and  things  has  been  awk'ard  ever  since  I" 

He  grasped  impotently  at  the  whirling  darkness. 
It  wouldn^t  stand  still,  but  spit  impudently  at  him, 
derisively  at  him,  with  lurid  sparks. 

Life  is  a  hunt  for  happiness.  The  game  is  scarce 
and  the  hunters  are  many.  They  who  miss  the  game, 
grumble  because  they  have  not  found  it.  Men  go 
a-hunting  for  happiness  as  they  would  go  a-hunting 
for  jack-rabbits,  seeking  it  by  its  tracks.  A  few 
learn  that  happiness  grows  out,  not  in.  Waters  had 
thrown  all  his  hopes  of  happiness  upon  the  attain- 
ment of  a  piece  of  cork. 

As  he  gazed  into  the  dizzy  darkness,  it  seemed 
that  a  brilliant  light  grew  out  of  the  shadow,  and  in 
the  centre  of  the  light,  as  in  an  aureole,  the  face  of 
Mrs.  Sprangs.  The  light  from  the  face  smote  him 
like  a  fist  in  anger,  and  he  fell  backward  upon  his 
elbows,  trembling. 

As  he  stared,  the  brilliance  faded  into  a  melan- 
choly gray,  out  of  which  a  huge  cork  leg,  as  though 
fastened  to  a  ponderous  but  invisible  body,  stalked 
toward  him.  Impotent  with  terror,  he  heard  the 
dull  pounding  of  the  approaching  foot.  On  came 
the  Leg.  It  stepped  upon  his  toes,  strode  up  his  leg, 
over  his  body,  which  at  every  step  was  racked  with 
dull  twinges.  It  stepped  upon  his  throat  and  choked 
him.  Its  weight  crushed  him  to  the  floor,  and  with 
a  dull  thud  it  planted  its  ponderous  foot  over  his 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  63 

eye.  His  brain  ached  with  the  weight.  And  then 
he  saw  no  more,  felt  no  more,  until  the  gray  of  the 
dawn  aroused  him. 


VIII 
The  Epic  Cry 

Winter  had  shut  in  about  Fort  Calhoun — the 
lonesome,  bitter  Winter.  There  is  nothing,  perhaps, 
at  once  more  majestic  and  hopeless  than  a  prairie 
Winter  when  the  country  is  new.  In  the  Summer 
there  is  something  so  generous,  even  prodigal,  about 
the  prairie.  It  gives  its  best  lavishly.  It  is  big- 
hearted  and  kindly  careless.  It  is  a  benevolent  giant, 
clothed  with  vast  blue  spaces,  shaken  with  sudden 
anger,  subdued  with  sudden  pity.  It  Is  this  that 
makes  the  Winter  terrible :  the  great  heart  fails — a 
Titan's  despair. 

From  a  window  of  the  Buried  Treasure  Buffet, 
Waters  had  watched  the  failing  of  the  mighty  heart. 
He  had  gazed  upon  the  hills  that  daily  became  more 
seared  with  the  first  frosts.  He  had  gazed  upon  the 
river,  from  the  time  the  first  ice  began  running  until 
the  stream  was  choked  from  bank  to  bank. 

He  saw  all  this,  and  he  became  akin  to  the  great 
silent  prairie,  because  his  heart  was  bitter  with  a 
despair  that  was  as  an  echo  of  the  great  white  Des- 
pair without. 

64 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  65 

Little  by  little  he  had  drifted  back  to  the  old  bit- 
ter consolation,  back  to  the  Zodiac  with  its  one  un- 
fortunate sign.  He  drank  much,  said  bitter  things 
about  the  world,  and  constantly  accused  Aquarius. 
He  had  not  visited  at  the  home  of  Specks  since  early 
in  the  Fall.  Whenever  he  found  the  face  of  Mrs. 
Sprangs  growing  up  in  his  head  when  he  closed  his 
eye,  he  invariably  aroused  himself,  and  had  another 
drink. 

Even  the  cork  leg,  which  would  come  with  the  first 
steamer  in  the  Spring — surely  it  would  come — but 
what  the  deuce  was  the  difference? — even  the  leg 
had  become  a  doubtful  good.  To  be  sure,  in  his 
dreams  it  preached  to  him  a  winsome  gospel  of  hap- 
piness ;  but  when  he  awoke  Waters  sneered  it  aside 
for  a  lying  prophet.  Then  he  drank  more  than  he 
wanted,  said  bitter  things  about  the  world,  and  con- 
stantly quarrelled  with  the  Zodiac.  Who  does  not, 
secretly  at  least,  quarrel  with  some  Aquarius? 

One  morning  in  early  February,  Waters  sat  look- 
ing up  the  stretches  of  the  river  to  the  north,  where 
the  landscape  hourly  grew  dimmer  with  the  increas- 
ing scurry  of  fine  dry  snow,  driven  by  a  light  south- 
east wind. 

As  he  sat  gazing,  the  door  of  the  shack  opened, 
admitting  Specks  and  a  bluster  of  snow. 

"Hello,  Specks!"  cried  Waters,  attempting  to  be 
jovial.    *'Goin'  to  blizzard,  think?" 

**Ma'ssick!" 

"Huh?" 


66  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

*'Ma^s  sick!"  repeated  the  boy  breathlessly,  and 
with  an  appeal  in  his  eye.    *'She's  about  to  die!" 

"Huh?  Sick!"  Waters  leaped  up,  shaken  with  a 
strange  mixed  passion,  including  shame,  pity,  affec- 
tion, sorrow. 

"About  to  die  I"  The  words  were  so  many  heavy 
blows.  As  by  a  miracle,  the  long  rejected  gospel  of 
the  cork  leg  became  convincing.  The  lying  prophet 
was  vindicated.  The  Summer  with  the  teaching  of 
the  meadow-larks  came  back  again.  "About  to 
die!"  The  little  weather-beaten  cottage  grew  up 
very  plainly  before  Waters.  The  face  of  a  woman 
blossomed  out  of  the  mist  that  passed  before  him. 
Why  did  it  seem  so  very  near,  just  as  it  was  about 
to  pass  away? 

"Did  the  doctor  say  so?" 

"There's  no  doctor  nearer  than  Omaha  City," 
Specks  answered;  "and  nobody'U  go,  because  the 
road's  so  bad;   and  she'll  die,  Mr.  Waters!" 

Waters  breathed  heavily. 

"Maybe  she's  dying  now!"  exclaimed  Specks 
nervously,  as  he  dashed  wildly  out  of  the  door  and 
disappeared  in  the  spindrift  of  snow.  Waters  stood 
motionless,  staring  out  upon  the  white  stretch  of 
river  and  bluff  and  prairie,  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 
He  hardly  thought;    he  was  dazed. 

Suddenly  something  out  of  the  great  white  spaces 
went  into  his  blood  and  shook  him  like  a  strong 
wind.  It  was  the  spirit  of  magnificent  Defiance,  the 
spirit  that  sleeps  in  all  Sublimity,  in  the  immensity  of 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  67 

the  ocean,  the  vastness  of  the  prairie,  the  magnitude 
of  mountains.    He  heard  the  Cry  of  the  Epic. 

The  wind  was  whipping  into  the  northwest.  With 
the  fine  snow  that  lay  upon  the  ground,  this  meant 
much  to  one  who  knew  the  prairie.  Waters  wrapt 
himself  carefully,  drew  on  a  pair  of  heavy  mittens, 
placed  a  bottle  of  liquor  in  his  pocket,  and  went  out 
into  the  storm,  locking  the  door  of  the  shack  behind 
him.  He  had  decided  to  walk  to  Omaha  City.  He 
would  get  there  by  midnight — if  the  wind — if  the 
wind — 

The  northwest  boomed  with  a  sudden  wild  gust, 
and  swept  the  half  articulate  words  from  his  lips. 
It  was  a  challenge.  Waters  heard  and  understood. 
He  would  battle  with  giants  that  day — great  white 
pitiless  giants,  huge,  volatile,  writhing,  biting,  hiss- 
ing, stinging  giants. 

A  man  is  very  small  in  a  quiet  prairie.  He 
dwindles  to  a  speck  when  it  is  in  anger.  Waters 
turned  his  back  to  the  storm  without  a  thought  of 
giving  up  the  undertaking.  The  long-endured  bit- 
terness of  heart  had  taught  him  the  abandonment 
of  self,  and  the  Cry  had  expanded  him,  filled  him 
with  the  defiant  joy  of  the  fighter. 

He  felt  no  fear  of  that  which  he  knew  to  be  be- 
fore him.  The  contemplation  of  the  possible  odds 
thrilled  him. 

The  light  snow  scurried  in  long  snake-like  stream- 
ers past  him  and  hissed  about  his  feet.  Boom!  The 
northwest  had  burst  into  a  hurricane!     It  was  the 


68  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

ultimatum  of  the  Elements  to  the  enemy — a  man 
with  one  eye  and  a  wooden  leg. 

The  enemy  tottered,  floundered  for  a  moment  in 
the  snow,  blinded  with  the  sudden  fury  of  the  attack, 
then  set  his  teeth  and  trudged  into  the  seething  gray 
twilight  of  the  storm.  A  strange,  one-sided  battle 
had  begun.  It  was  the  violence  of  the  Infinite  sus- 
tained by  the  defiant  Finite.  Titan  blows  fell  upon 
the  pigmy. 

Yet  there  was  no  eye  to  look  into  the  narrow  zone 
of  battle,  hemmed  with  the  writhing,  sibilant  snow 
maze  that  conjured  late  evening  under  the  noon. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  many  elemental  phe- 
nomena as  being  merely  the  human  passions  pro- 
jected upon  a  larger  canvas.  A  cyclone  is  sudden 
anger,  a  south  wind  is  feminine  tenderness,  rainfall 
is  grief,  the  Spring  sunshine  is  love.  Madness  is 
the  conglomeration  of  all  passions.  A  blizzard  is 
the  madness  of  the  air.  It  has  the  blind  fury  of 
anger,  the  hiss  of  hate,  the  shout  of  joy,  the  dusk 
of  melancholy,  the  shiver  of  fear,  the  cold  sting  of 
jealousy;  and  when  its  force  is  spent,  it  wraps  its 
victims  in  a  shroud  of  white,  which  may  be  an  act  of 
love — a  savage  love. 

A  blizzard  transforms.  What  it  touches  it  leaves 
grotesque.  It  annihilates  the  boundary  line  of  light 
and  darkness.  In  its  breath  the  night  becomes 
merely  a  deepening  of  shadow  upon  the  dim  twilight 
of  the  day. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  69 

"Have  to  keep  to  the  river,"  muttered  Waters; 
** — to  the  river — to  the  river — to  the  river."  The 
words  went  on  running  in  his  head.  He  trudged  and 
floundered  on  for  some  time — perhaps  hours;  he 
did  not  know.  In  a  blizzard,  even  the  sense  of  time 
is  lost. 

Suddenly  he  was  conscious  of  a  stinging  sensation 
on  the  left  side  of  his  face.  He  had  been  walking 
with  his  left  side  to  the  wind;  whereas,  the  wind 
blew  down  the  river. 

"Back  to  the  wind — back  to  the  wind — ^back  to 
the — oh!"  He  had  struck  his  head  against  a  tree. 
"A  tree !  I  must  be  in  the  bottom  east  of  the  river," 
he  thought  confusedly.  He  tried  to  think  clearly 
about  the  matter;  but  nothing  would  come  clearly. 
He  was  dazed.  His  thoughts  whirled  dizzily,  even 
as  the  snow. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  muttered,  as  if  with  sudden  inspira- 
tion; "back  to  the  wind — back  to  the  wind — back 
to  the  wind."  And  he  trudged  off,  stepping  in  time 
to  the  drone  of  his  addled  brain. 

After  he  had  walked  for  hours  and  hours,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  still  keeping  step  to  the  drone  of  his 
head,  he  again  ran  against  a  tree.  ,The  shock 
aroused  him.  He  fumbled  about  the  trunk  and  with 
a  sinking  of  the  heart,  he  thought  he  recognized  the 
same  tree  that  he  had  struck  before.  Breathless,  he 
leaned  against  the  tree  and  tried  to  think. 

Oh,  yes — the  hquor!     It  was  the  liquor  he  had 


70  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

been  looking  for  all  the  time.  Strange  that  he  had 
not  thought  of  the  liquor!  He  drank  a  great 
draught,  and  the  delirium  passed. 

For  the  first  time  he  noted  that  it  was  night.  He 
must  have  been  walking  five  hours ;  and  where  was 
he?  '*rm  lost — lost — lost,"  he  muttered,  stalking 
rapidly  down  the  wind  into  the  mad  night.  *'Lost — 
lost — lost."    He  kept  time  to  the  terrible  words. 

Suddenly  the  writhing  darkness  ahead  of  him  was 
illumined  with  a  soft  light,  and  in  it  grew  the  old 
vision — the  weather-beaten  cottage,  the  cheery  sit- 
ting room — the  woman's  face.  Ah,  the  woman's 
face !  Yes,  it  was  that  he  was  looking  for.  Surely 
it  was  that,  and  not  the  liquor  at  all.  Not  the  liquor  I 

As  the  light  and  vision  were  swirled  away  into 
the  dizzy  darkness,  reality  came  upon  Waters  as  a 
shout  to  one  who  is  asleep.  He  was  going  after 
the  doctor  to  Omaha  City — the  doctor  for  Mrs. 
Sprangs.  Again  the  buffeting  of  the  storm  mad- 
dened him.  A  great  anger  shook  him.  With  his 
teeth  set,  and  his  back  to  the  great  wind,  he  strode 
into  the  storm.  The  rage  of  a  fighter  in  the  face  of 
overwhelming  odds  was  in  his  heart.  He  swore  and 
struck  at  the  storm  with  his  clenched  fists.  He 
wished  that  the  wind  might  materialize  into  a  wild 
beast,  that  he  might  die  with  his  teeth  set  in  its  neck. 

But  a  blizzard  is  an  anger  without  intelligence,  a 
bodiless  foe,  an  enemy  without  nerves.  It  knows 
not  its  strength  for  attack,  and  feels  no  blow  of  de- 
fence.   It  is  irresistible  and  invulnerable. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  71 

Waters  began  to  stumble  and  fall  frequently. 
Once  he  fell  upon  his  face  and  was  half  persuaded  to 
lie  still.  The  wind's  shout,  however,  would  not  let 
him  sleep.  ''The  doctor — the  doctor!'^  it  shouted 
and  roared  and  shrieked,  until  he  arose  with  diffi- 
culty and  pushed  on  into  the  storm.  Once  his  heart 
leaped  with  the  joy  of  sudden  hope.  He  saw  specks 
of  fire  before  him.  Surely  they  were  the  lights  of 
Omaha  City.  He  dashed  on  wildly,  but  the  specks 
of  fire  were  sucked  away  into  the  vortex  of  the  night. 

Waters  wanted  to  lie  down  and  sleep.  But  the 
wind  was  so  noisy  with  its  shouting.  Why  would 
not  the  wind  let  him  sleep?  All  about  him  were 
beds  of  down — warm  pleasant  beds;  but  the  wind 
went  on  shouting  about  the  doctor.  And  he 
strode  on. 

Despair  crept  icily  through  his  veins.  There  is  a 
terrible  strength  and  power  for  endurance  in  desper- 
ation. Hope  avails  to  goad  the  limbs  only  until  that 
moment  when  the  limbs  become  feeble ;  then  it  van- 
ishes, and  despair  fights  defeat.  More  heroes  are 
the  product  of  the  probability  of  failure  than  of  the 
possibility  of  success.  It  is  the  difference  between 
the  narcotic  and  the  stimulant. 

A  time  came  when  even  the  sense  of  despair  left 
Waters.  He  felt  nothing.  He  was  simply  a  thought 
blown  about  the  darkness  on  a  pitiless  wind;  and 
that  thought  was  about  the  doctor.  He  laughed 
hysterically  when,  in  his  delirium,  he  saw  the  streets 
of  Omaha  City,  up  which  he  walked  right  to  a  door 


72  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

that  had  a  doctor's  name  upon  the  plate.  He  put 
out  his  fist  and  knocked  feebly.  Then  a  sense  of  ease 
came  over  him.  He  lay  down  in  front  of  the  door 
and  swooned  deliciously  into  sleep. 

The  wind  shouted  no  more ;  it  was  quiet  that  he 
might  sleep. 

Early  the  next  morning,  after  the  departure  of 
Waters  for  Omaha  City,  a  man  living  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  Calhoun,  ventured  out  into  the  storm  to  go 
to  the  grocery  store.  As  he  pushed  through  the 
still  blinding  flurries,  he  stumbled  against  the  body  of 
a  man.  It  was  Waters.  Bewildered  by  the  storm, 
he  had  travelled  all  afternoon  and  most  of  the  night 
within  a  short  radius  of  the  town,  and  had  fallen 
with  exhaustion  almost  where  he  had  started.  His 
discoverer,  with  the  aid  of  a  neighbor,  carried  him 
to  the  grocery  store. 

"Think  you  can  go  right  off,  doc?"  said  Waters, 
when  at  last  he  awoke  from  the  lethargy  of  the  cold. 
He  looked  up  from  the  counter  upon  which  he  lay, 
and  was  surprised  that  he  did  not  see  the  doctor's 
door  with  the  name  upon  it. 

"Come  now,  Mr.  Waters,  don't  be  a  goin'  off  that 
away,"  said  the  grocer  soothingly.  "We  all  knows 
how  a  feller  gits  when  he's — well,  that  a  way!" 

"How?"  Waters  asked  peevishly. 

"Well,  now,  Mr.  Waters,"  continued  the  grocer, 
in  the  wheedling  tone  one  uses  to  a  sick  child,  "well 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  73 

now,  you  see,  mebbe  you've  been  the  least  mite  sub- 
ject to  spirits;  that  is,  mebbe  you've  been  drinking. 
You  see,  we  found  you  out  in  the  street  under  a  snow 
bank,  but  you  hain't  hurt  much;  snow  pertected 
you.     You'll  come  round." 

*'What  's  that?"  cried  Waters;  "drunk?  Can  a 
man  walk  to  Omaha  City  in  one  night  and  git  drunk, 
too?  Who  brung  me  here?  I  just  laid  down  by  the 
doctor's  door  to  sleep.  Awful  tired.  Just  laid  down 
to  sleep,  and  here's  all  you  fellers  grinnin'  at  me. 
What's  it  mean?" 

The  grin  widened,  and  one  produced  a  half-emp- 
tied liquor  flask.    "This  your'n?"  said  he. 

Waters  mumbled  something  about  it  being  his 
flask,  and  that  he  had  taken  a  drink  by  the  tree. 
"Couldn't  have  got  there  without  it,"  he  muttered. 
"Never  would've  found  myself  without  it." 

"B'lieve  he's  gettin'  'em  I"  whispered  a  lounger 
rather  audibly  to  the  grocer. 

"Snakes,"  returned  the  grocer  with  a  positive  nod. 

"You  fellers  is  all  damned  fools!"  cried  Waters. 
"Le'  me  up !"  And  to  the  surprise  of  all,  the  lately 
resuscitated  arose  and  tottered  out  the  front  door. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  Buried  Treasure  Buffet, 
he  took  a  drink,  lit  a  fire,  and  discovered  that  his 
hands  were  aching,  and  that  several  of  his  fingers 
and  toes  were  numb.  "Must  have  laid  out  some- 
where," he  mused.  "Funny — danged  funny! 
Where'd  they  find  me?     Mebbe  I  was  just  drunk. 


74  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

But  no,  I  can  remember  starting  fair  and  square 
enough,  just  after  Specks  was  here.  Can't  remem- 
ber drinkin'  any  more  after  that." 

Waters'  head  was  dull,  and  he  ached  as  a  result 
of  the  exposure.  Was  he  to  believe  himself,  or  the 
loungers  at  the  store?  Had  he  really  fought  with 
the  storm?  Or  was  it  only  the  nightmare  of  a 
drunken  sleep.  He  lit  his  pipe  with  difficulty  and 
tried  to  smoke.  But  the  smoke  didn't  agree  with 
him.  "B'lieve  I'm  sick,"  he  said.  He  felt  stunned. 
He  lay  down  upon  a  couch  near  the  stove,  and  an 
hour  later  was  awakened  from  a  feverish  doze  by 
the  entrance  of  Specks. 

*'Ma's  almost  well!"  Specks  announced  joyously. 
*'She's  glad  now  we  didn't  send  for  the  doctor." 

Waters  looked  in  a  peculiar,  dazed  way  at  the 
boy. 

"You  sick,  Mr.  Waters?"  he  asked,  his  spirits 
falling  as  he  drew  near  the  couch. 

^'Caught  a  little  cold,  Specks — ^just  a  little  cold 
like."  He  took  the  boy's  hand  in  his.  "Did  Waters 
ever  lie  to  you  that  you  knowed  of.  Specks?"  he  said 
slowly.  The  boy's  head  shook  a  violent  negative. 
"Well,  yesterday,  after  you  was  here,  I  went  to 
Omaha  City  after  doc.  Bad  storm,  Specks;  never 
see  the  like.  It  was  hell  froze!  But  I  got  there, 
Specks,  and  I  told  doc.     Didn't  he  come?" 

A  shadow  of  embarrassment  went  over  the  face  of 
the  boy  and  he  looked  down  his  nose. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  75 

**How'd  I  get  back,  Specks?  Tell  me  that! 
How'dlgetback?'' 

"You're  sick,  Mr.  Waters,"  said  Specks;  "don't 
you  think  you'd  ought  to  sleep?" 

Waters  with  eye  strangely  dimmed  stared  long  at 
the  boy,  and  then  said  feebly:  "A  feller  won't  lie 
to  his  crony,  Specks."  He  closed  his  eye  and  went 
off  into  a  restless  sleep. 

Waters  was  sick  two  weeks,  and  Specks  took  faith- 
ful care  of  his  crony.  But  the  epic  cry — it  had 
dwindled  into  village  gossip. 


IX 

The  First  Boat 

If  you  ever  knew  how  to  whistle  a  merry  tune,  It 
is  hard  to  avoid  remembering  it  when  the  ice  breaks 
up  and  booms  down  swollen  channels,  and  when  the 
first  thunder  shakes  the  sky  and  the  mixed  scent  of 
rain  and  new  grass  is  everywhere. 

Waters  startled  himself  one  sunny  Spring  morn- 
ing by  whistling  a  gay  tune.  It  was  the  first  of  the 
kind  since  the  last  boat  came  up  in  the  Fall.  Later 
on  in  the  day,  as  he  waited  for  custom  behind  the 
bar,  he  suddenly  made  a  discovery.  The  whistled 
tune  had  changed  into  the  air  of  an  old  love  song 
which  he  had  whistled  the  preceding  Summer,  when 
the  blue  sky  was  very  near,  and  the  meadow-larks 
said  tender  things. 

The  human  heart  is  a  garden  marvellously  fertile. 
The  weeds  of  bitterness  grow  there,  but  at  certain 
seasons  a  smile  or  an  old  tune  or  a  kind  word  will 
make  the  weed  plot  flare  with  the  bloom  of  Summer. 
The  softly  whistled  air  spread  a  flame  of  bloom  in 
the  heart  of  Waters.  He  began  to  calculate  how  long 
it  would  be  before  the  river  would  be  open,  and  how 

76 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  77 

long  after  that  it  would  be  before  the  first  steamer 
would  land  at  Calhoun  with  his  cork  leg;  and  how 
long  after  that  it  would  be  before  he  could  learn  to 
use  it  well  enough  to  make  a  call  on  Mrs.  Sprangs, 
and  how  long  after  that  until 

And  at  this  point  he  took  up  the  broken  thread 
of  his  whistled  air  with  undue  diligence. 

Again  he  began  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  time 
sweeping  the  Southern  horizon  for  a  trail  of  smoke, 
and  straining  his  ears  for  the  first  far  whistle  of  a 
northbound  packet. 

The  Spring  was  far  into  May  when  the  boat  ar- 
rived. Among  the  things  which  were  put  off  at  the 
landing  was  a  long,  round  package  addressed  to  Mr. 
Waters,  Mgr.  Waters  &  Co.,  Fort  Calhoun,  N.  T. 
Waters  pounced  upon  the  package  and  hurried  to 
the  Buffet,  locking  himself  in.  Then  he  untied  the 
bundle  and  his  sunrise  began  again  with  a  great 
streamer  of  light !     It  was  his  cork  leg. 

He  slowly  unbuckled  his  wooden  leg,  removed  it, 
gazed  upon  it,  then  leaned  it  against  the  wall. 
"Good-bye,  old  feller,"  he  said;  *'don't  think  I'm 
castin'  you  off  in  my  prosperity.  But  you  see. 
Stumpy,  a  feller's  got  to  progress  on'ard  and  up'ard. 
You've  been  a  good  leg  to  me,  if  you  was  always 
hombly.  And  then — mebbe  I'll  come  back  to  you 
— mebbe  I'll  come  back." 

The  one  notch  carved  near  the  upper  end  of  the 
old  leg  seemed  to  Waters  to  assume  the  intelligence 
of  a  reproachful  eye.     *'Mebbe  I'll  come  back,"  he 


78  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

muttered  again;  then  he  began  carefully  to  fit  on 
the  cork  leg. 

When  the  night  had  fallen,  he  went  down  to  the 
river  and  Indulged  in  the  most  abandoned  capers, 
walking,  galloping,  running,  jumping — by  way  of 
practice,  preliminary  to  his  public  appearance  upon 
the  morrow.  The  result  of  the  practice  was  so 
satisfactory  that  he  decided  upon  the  next  Sunday 
for  the  completion  of  his  sunrise,  which  had  lingered 
so  long. 

During  the  whole  week  Waters  was  the  talk  of 
the  village  again,  and  the  effect  of  the  new  sensa- 
tion was  felt  at  the  Buffet  In  Increased  dally  receipts. 

Upon  the  following  Sunday  morning,  dressed  In 
his  best,  Waters  went  out  with  the  Intention  of  going 
at  once  to  the  home  of  Mrs.  Sprangs.  At  noon  he 
returned  to  the  Buffet,  no  nearer  to  his  object  than 
in  the  morning.  All  afternoon  he  endeavored  to 
drive  himself  to  the  door  of  the  weather-beaten  cot- 
tage, but  returned,  dejected,  to  his  shack  in  the  even- 
ing. Then  he  spent  several  hours  In  examining  his 
face  In  a  hand  mirror,  wondering  If  there  were  any 
glass  eyes  in  St.  Louis. 

When  he  fell  asleep  he  did  not  rest,  but  busily 
all  the  night  chased  recalcitrant  glass  eyes  that 
would  not  remain  in  place,  but  rolled  away  provok- 
Ingly — always  a  little  out  of  reach — always  just  a 
little  out  of  reach. 


The  Second  Boat 

One  evening  in  early  June  there  was  an  unusual 
attendance  at  the  grocery  store  convention.  A 
steamboat  had  arrived  from  the  South  that  after- 
noon, and  everybody  was  talking  at  once. 

"They  say  he  brought  back  nothin'  but  his  hide 
and  some  old  clothes  I" 

"Who?" 

"Hain't  you  heard?" 

"W'y,  Bill  Sprangs,  the  widder's  husband  I" 

"He's  been  gone  nigh  onto  ten  years — ^been  pros- 
pectin'  out  West!" 

"Thought  he  was  dead!" 

"So'd  the  widder!" 

"What'll  Waters  do  now?" 

"Dunno." 

The  talk  went  on  far  into  the  night.  That  night 
Waters  did  not  go  to  bed.  By  the  light  of  a  candle 
he  sat  bent  over  a  sheet  of  writing  paper.  Several 
hours  elapsed  before  he  folded  the  paper  and  placed 
it  in  an  envelope ;  yet  this  was  all  he  wrote : 

"My  dear  crony:  I'm  going  to  take  to  the  river 
again.     Be  good  to  yourself  and  do  what  you  are 

79 


8o  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

a  mind  with  the  treasure.  It's  your'n.  So  is  all 
the  money  I've  got.  It's  hid  under  the  big  rock 
that  you  know  about.  Going  up  to  Fort  Benton 
with  the  next  boat  out  of  the  City.  Be  back  next 
Spring,  mebbe. 

"Waters. 
"P.  S. — This  was  wrote  at  midnight." 

After  sealing   and   addressing  the   envelope,   he^ 
went  out  and  dropped  the  letter  in  the  box  of  the 
grocery  store  post  office.     Then  he  returned  to  the 
Buffet. 

He  placed  a  large  flask  of  whiskey  in  his  pocket, 
put  his  old  wooden  leg  under  his  arm,  and  blowing 
out  the  light,  he  went  out  and  locked  the  door. 

When  he  had  reached  the  river  landing  he  looked 
carefully  about  him,  and  finding  himself  alone  in  the 
silent  star-lit  night,  sat  down  upon  a  coil  of  rope  and 
unbuckled  his  new  cork  limb.  Then  he  sighed,  fitted 
his  old  wooden  leg,  with  its  one  notch,  to  the  accus- 
tomed stump,  and  buckled  it  tight. 

He  then  did  that  which  would  have  been  incom- 
prehensible to  an  observer,  if  there  had  been  any. 
He  grasped  the  cork  leg  by  the  foot,  whirled  it 
rapidly  about  his  head  until  it  whirred  dismally  in 
the  silence  and  flung  it  far  out  into  the  stream. 

He  watched  it  floating  in  the  muddy  swirl  until 
it  was  lost  in  the  shadows.  Then  he  stumped  away 
southward  into  the  night. 


PART  TWO 
THE  ISLAND 

I 

The  Roustabout 

The  freight  packet  Emilie,  of  St.  Louis,  bound 
for  Fort  Benton,  had  touched  at  Omaha  about  the 
middle  of  June.  Waters  had  gone  aboard  as  gen- 
eral roustabout.  During  the  run  to  Sioux  City  he 
had  spoken  little,  obeying  the  brutal  commands  of 
the  mate  with  the  hangdog  air  of  a  man  whom  Fate 
has  recently  lifted  out  of  happiness  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck. 

At  first  he  had  been  merely  stunned — a  derelict, 
drifting,  as  of  old,  into  the  suck  of  the  convenient 
tYtnt.  Then,  In  accordance  with  his  temperamental 
tendency,  having  awakened  dazedly  amidst  a  new 
chaos,  he  began  to  lay  out,  tentatively,  his  new  cos- 
mos. He  thought  of  the  gold  fields  of  the  North- 
west; but  wealth  had  little  lure  for  him  now.  He 
thought  of  returning  to  the  sea  by  the  next  boat 
down.  This  looking  backward  only  increased  the 
heartache. 

8i 


82  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Finally  he  discovered,  with  a  twinge  of  conscience 
which  steadily  grew  less,  that  only  one  business,  so 
far  as  he  could  ascertain,  had  any  charms  for  him — 
the  business  of  being  very  drunk.  Accordingly, 
when  the  Emilie  touched  at  Sioux  City,  Mr.  Waters 
became  the  proprietor  of  a  large  and  flourishing 
jag;  and  when  the  boat  sailed,  he  was  in  possession 
of  a  goodly  sinking  fund  in  the  form  of  a  jug  of 
whiskey. 

Roustabouts  were  scarce  on  the  upper  river  in 
those  days ;  and  Waters  was  simply  tumbled  into  his 
bunk  with  a  good  prospect  for  docked  wages.  How- 
ever, Mr.  Waters  had  no  intention  of  allowing  the 
new  business  to  run  him.  He  intended  to  run  the 
business. 

Emerging  from  the  first  wild  plunge  into  the  new 
undertaking,  he  found  his  business  at  a  low  ebb,  and 
at  once  dipped  into  the  sinking  fund.  Forthwith, 
things  began  to  happen  on  board  the  boat.  Mr. 
Waters  annexed  the  Emilie,  and  decided  to  convert 
the  same  into  a  pleasure  craft.  For  a  day  he  was 
allowed  to  enjoy  his  suddenly  acquired  wealth.  All 
on  board  had,  at  some  time  or  other,  experienced 
the  transient  munificence  of  the  well-liquored;  and 
Waters  was  used  for  purposes  of  entertainment. 

But  when  he  intruded  wantonly  into  the  sacred 
precincts  of  the  captain's  authority,  that  autocrat  of 
wounded  dignity  ordered  the  drunken  roustabout  to 
be  bound  and  put  to  bed,  and  the  sinking  fund  to 
be  confiscated.     Waters  refused  to  abdicate,   and 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  83 

delivered  his  ultimatum  to  the  rebellious  captain, 
which  stated  plainly  to  what  particular  locality  the 
outraged  officer  might  take  himself.  Having  de- 
clared war,  he  backed  up  against  the  wheel  house, 
unbuckled  his  wooden  leg  and  stood  ready  for 
battle.  This  was  late  in  the  evening.  The  Emilie 
had  already  made  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  above 
Sioux  City,  and  would  sail  all  night,  as  the  high 
waters  of  the  June  rise  made  the  channel  safe. 

The  bell  had  jangled,  and  all  hands  had  tumbled 
aft  to  enforce  the  order.  But  darkness  fell,  and 
still  the  order  was  not  enforced.  No  one  cared 
for  a  broken  head.  A  parley  ensued;  but  the  Thing 
in  the  shadow  of  the  wheel  house  would  listen  to 
no  overtures  of  peace. 

"You  fellers  can't  put  Waters  off  with  a  steam- 
nigger,  you  can't,  you "    And  then  the  voice  in 

the  shadow  of  the  wheel  house  went  off  into  elab- 
orate profanity,  that  had  the  strange  shivery  effect 
of  a  rattlesnake's  burr. 

At  this  moment  a  tall,  burly  roustabout  came  up 
and  pushed  his  way  roughly  through  the  faltering 
bunch.  "Bring  on  your  lanterns,  and  let  me  get  at 
the  damned  rooster  I  I'll  kick  him  into  the  river  I" 
The  men  advanced  behind  the  impetuous  roustabout, 
who  made  for  the  shadow  of  the  wheel  house.  As 
the  winking  lanterns  of  the  crew  drew  up  in  a  semi- 
circle about  the  place  the  light  fell  upon  an  incar- 
nate Terror.  Mr.  Waters  leaned  against  the  wheel 
house ;  his  unkempt  hair  straggled  in  a  tangle  about 


84  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

his  forehead  and  ears,  his  face  was  pinched  with 
mental  anguish  and  drunkenness.  The  dim  light 
deepened  the  lines  that  told  a  hieroglyphic  tale  of 
bitterness.  His  one  eye  glared,  and  the  empty 
socket  was  inflamed.  His  parched  and  cracked 
lower  lip  hung  nervously  in  a  savage  leer.  His  left 
hand  sprawled  against  the  wheel  house  to  support 
him  upon  his  one  leg,  and  his  wooden  limb  was 
wielded  menacingly  as  a  war-club. 

The  big  man,  at  the  sight  of  the  face,  fell  back, 
and  the  semicircle  of  winking  lanterns  slowly  wid- 
ened. Waters  laughed,  and  the  joyless  sound  lin- 
gered in  the  heavy  night  like  a  menace. 

At  midnight  the  few  who  remained  on  deck,  keep- 
ing watch  over  the  man  in  the  shadow  of  the  wheel 
house,  heard  the  clatter  of  a  dropped  club,  the  sound 
of  a  falling  body.  They  approached  the  shadow  and 
saw  Waters  lying  face  downward  in  a  heap.  He 
was  snoring  heavily,  with  an  occasional  spasmodic 
catching  of  the  breath. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  landing  bell  sounded,  the 
engines  slowed  down  until  the  boat  hovered  motion- 
less in  the  current.  All  hands  turned  out  on  deck  to 
learn  what  was  going  on.  "What's  up?"  queried 
an  engineer,  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  engine 
room. 

"Putting  the  one-legged  roustabout  off,"  said  the 
mate;  "we're  just  passing  Old  Man's  Island — that's 
it — that  black  blotch  over  there.  Guess  it'll  sober 
him  some,  talking  to  the  inhabitants  I"     And  for 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  85 

some  reason  the  mate  and  the  engineer  and  all  who 
stood  near  joined  in  a  hearty  chuckle. 

At  the  sound  of  the  bell  the  engine  increased 
speed;  the  boat  swung  about  and  headed  for  a  long 
narrow  strip  of  dusk,  lying  to  the  west  of  the  chan- 
nel. Its  powerful  reflectors,  cutting  a  swath  of  light 
through  the  darkness,  bored  a  luminous  tunnel  into 
the  gloom  of  the  wooded  shore.  The  boat  pulled 
slowly  up  to  the  bank.  The  gang-plank  fell  upon 
the  sand  and  a  pair  of  deck-hands  crossed  it,  bearing 
by  the  shoulders  and  legs  the  limp  slumbering  body 
of  Waters. 

They  dropped  the  sleeping  man  upon  the  sand 
and  placed  his  detached  wooden  leg  beside  him. 

"Here,  you  rousters!"  bawled  the  captain,  ''come 
a  running  there — take  this  grub  and  jug  of  liquor 
and  lay  it  beside  him.  I  guess  he'll  feel  in  need  of 
stimulants  before  he  gets  acquainted.  I'd  like  to 
see  them  when  they  come  together,"  he  added  to  the 
mate. 

The  liquor  and  victuals  were  placed  near  Waters, 
then  the  plank  was  raised,  and  the  Emilie  pulled 
out  into  the  current. 

As  the  boat  groaned  again  with  the  effort  of  get- 
ting away,  a  sharp  report  came  from  the  island,  and 
something  chugged  into  the  side  of  the  cabin. 

"Hey  there!"  cried  the  mate;  "the  old  man 
doesn't  like  visitors!  Swing  that  light  onto  the 
shore!" 

The  yellow  arm  of  light  swung  about  and  touched 


86  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  Island  again.  Suddenly,  as  the  projected  circle 
of  day  flitted  across  the  shore,  the  apparition  of  a 
gaunt,  bewhiskered  old  man,  holding  a  smoking  rifle 
in  his  hands,  sprang  out  of  the  night,  as  if  thrown 
upon  a  canvas,  and  as  suddenly  disappeared  into  the 
dark  again.  When  the  arm  of  light  retraced  the 
spot  where  the  apparition  had  appeared,  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  drunken  roustabout  lying 
in  a  heap  upon  the  shore,  and  behind  him  the  heavy 
timber. 

Again  the  arm  of  light  swung  about,  felt  far 
ahead  for  the  channel,  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer, 
faded  into  an  indistinct  glow,  and  the  noise  of  the 
toiling  engine  came  like  the  mufiled  wheeze  of  an 
asthmatic  sleeper.  Then  this  was  swallowed  up,  and 
there  was  no  light,  and  only  the  sound  of  the  river^s 
lapping  and  the  snore  of  Waters. 

In  his  dreams.  Waters  battled  with  terrors.  Now 
he  was  struggling  with  storm-driven  floods  that  over- 
whelmed him;  now  he  held  crowds  at  bay;  now  he 
clutched  at  the  throat  of  some  man  whose  face  was 
hidden.  He  could  hear  the  wheezing  breath,  the 
rattle  in  the  man's  throat,  and  always  at  this  juncture 
the  face  became  visible,  and  it  was  the  face  of  the 
man  who  came  unexpectedly  out  of  the  West.  Then 
suddenly  these  things  faded.  A  dazzling  light  smote 
athwart  his  dream,  through  which,  it  seemed,  he 
caught  a  transitory  gleam  of  kindly  features — the 
faces  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  and  his  mother  curiously 
mixed. 


THE   DAWN-BUILDER  87 

Then  with  a  shock  like  that  of  a  trumpet's  blast 
to  the  ear,  a  great  light  fell  upon  his  face.  He 
opened  his  eye  directly  in  the  horizontal  glare  of 
the  morning  sun  that  burned  the  summits  of  the  dis- 
tant bluffs  and  girded  the  river  with  a  band  of  flame. 
A  shuffle  of  feet  near  by  in  the  sand  attracted  him. 
Wearily  he  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and 
turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  Im- 
mediately he  closed  his  eye.  The  thing  which  he 
had  gazed  upon  dazzled  him,  still  drowsy  with  the 
clinging  debauch.  It  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  a  young 
woman. 

In  the  supersensitive  condition  of  his  nerves, 
Waters  received  a  vivid  picture.  The  young  woman 
was  of  middle  height,  slender  and  gracefully  formed. 
A  loose  robe  was  hung  carelessly  from  her  shoul- 
ders, somewhat  after  the  manner  of  the  ancient 
Greeks.  This,  of  course.  Waters  did  not  know;  he 
had  merely  caught  a  picture  of  something  that 
seemed  to  him  to  be  overpoweringly,  impossibly 
beautiful.  The  sun-bronzed  shapely  arms,  extended 
in  surprise,  lifted  the  drapery  of  her  shoulders. 
The  body  beneath  seemed  transparent  in  the  dawn, 
formed  of  mist  and  sunlight. 

Her  face,  frail  and  nobly  formed,  bore  that  wan 
light  of  inquiring  innocence  which  a  lover  of  Grecian 
lore  would  place  upon  the  face  of  a  nymph  startled 
by  a  sleeping  satyr.  Her  hair  was  red-gold,  and  the 
sunlight  smote  it  into  a  flame  that  burned  to  her 
waist  and  clung  about  her  lithe  figure  like  a  halo. 


88  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Her  feet  and  ankles,  bare  and  wet  with  dew, 
sparkled  In  the  light  like  the  feet  of  an  immortal. 

When  Waters  again  ventured  to  open  his  eye  with 
the  uncertain  fear  of  a  drunkard  in  a  delirium,  the 
figure  had  vanished.  He  raised  himself  to  a  sitting 
posture  and  tried  to  think. 

*'I  guess  Fm  gettin'  *em,'*  he  mused  with  a  bitter 
mirth.  ^'Improvement  on  snakes  though  I"  Then 
he  discovered  his  wooden  leg,  buckled  it  on,  and  tot- 
tered toward  the  spot  where  the  vision  had  disap- 
peared. 

He  thought  he  could  distinguish  the  marks  of 
dainty  toes  in  the  sand.  He  got  upon  his  knee  for 
closer  inspection,  but  his  poor  head  buzzed  and 
whirled  with  the  exertion,  and  he  decided  with  the 
irrelevance  of  intoxication  that  he  ought  to  sleep 
some  more.  Thereupon  he  fell  on  his  face,  and  the 
daylight  whirled  dizzily  until  it  went  out  like  a  candle 
in  a  draught. 

During  the  swoon-like  sleep  that  followed. 
Waters  dreamed  that  he  was  being  lifted  and  car- 
ried. It  all  seemed  to  be  happening  without  any  re- 
lation to  time  and  space.  He  was  only  half  conscious 
of  being  roughly  handled  without  the  desire  or 
ability  to  interfere.  Then  even  the  sense  of  this 
passed. 


II 

Waters  Wakes 

Waters  groaned  and  opened  his  eye.  He  saw 
nothing;  the  darkness  was  the  darkness  of  the  blind. 
* 'Hum-hum-hum — night  again!  Devil  of  a  good 
sleep!"  He  yawned  as  he  spoke,  opening  and  clos- 
ing his  mouth  wearily  in  a  vain  attempt  to  get  the 
fuzz  of  dissipation  off  his  tongue  and  the  bitter  taste 
of  the  morning  after  out  of  his  mouth.  Then  he 
decided  he  would  rub  his  eye.  His  hands  would 
not  move  from  his  sides.  With  a  second  desperate 
effort  he  learned  that  his  arms  were  held  down  by 
the  wrists  that  ached  with  the  violent  effort  to  be 
free.  Also  his  legs  were  bound.  His  head  buzzed 
and  swam  dizzily.  He  listened  intently,  and  noted 
a  sound:  chug  chug  chug.  It  suggested  the  hog- 
like grunt  and  puff  of  a  steamer  rooting  up  stream. 

*'Guess  I'm  on  the  Emilie  yet,"  he  muttered  in 
bewilderment.  "Got  me  tied  down.  Hey  there ! 
Le'  me  up  !"  A  thousand  metallic  voices  in  the  dark- 
ness answered  Me  up — me  up.  "Yes,  le'  me  up — 
I  say  there!"     There — er — er,  said  the  voices. 

After  another  violent  struggle,  Waters  noted  that 

89 


90  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  ckug  chug  as  of  a  steamer's  exhaust,  was  louder 
and  faster.  "Can't  be  I'm  on  the  Emilie — that's 
my  heart  beatin'  in  my  temples,"  mused  Waters. 
**rm  inside  of  somethin'  big  and  dark  and  damp 
and  holler.  Seems  like  I  dreamed  of  bein'  brung 
somewheres.  Ugh — ugh — ugh/^  He  coughed  vio- 
lently in  the  damp  air,  and  there  came  a  mocking 
sound  as  of  a  thousand  invisible  dogs  baying  at  the 
midnight. 

**Bark,  you  idiots  I"  he  yelled,  the  dying  liquor 
in  his  head  conjuring  up  all  sorts  of  fantastic  no- 
tions. The  echoes  died  slowly  and  the  heavy  silence 
crept  back  into  the  damp  and  dark. 

After  another  violent  and  prolonged  effort. 
Waters  lay  quite  still  and  tried  to  think.  He  won- 
dered if  he  had  not  been  thrown  into  some  deep 

hole,  or  had  he  not  left  the  boat,  or .     Then 

suddenly  the  memory  of  the  brilliant  something  he 
had  seen  burning  in  the  horizontal  sun,  shot  through 
his  brain  like  a  thin,  keen  ray  of  sunlight  through 
a  chink  in  a  dark  room. 

"I  wonder  was  it  a  woman?"  mused  Waters. 
"Never  see  nothin'  like  it.  No  more'n  half  dressed 
neither  I     Looked  like  her  hair  was  burnin'." 

Then  slowly,  falteringly,  almost  remorsefully,  the 
dazed  thoughts  of  Waters  crept  back  into  the  years 
when  his  mother  used  to  talk  to  him  about  angels 
that  watched  over  him  while  he  slept.  Angels! 
Maybe  it  was  an  angel  I  He  felt  a  sudden  shame  at 
having  spoken  lightly  of  the  vision,  so  pure  was  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  91 

thought  of  that  far  away  time.  In  his  maudlin  condi- 
tion tears  came  easily  and  ran  down  his  cheeks. 
When  he  would  have  brushed  them  away,  the  sense 
of  being  a  prisoner  came  upon  him  stronger  than 
before,  for  the  liquor  was  dying  under  the  new  ex- 
citement. A  cold  perspiration  came  out  upon  his 
forehead.  He  saw  things  in  the  darkness  and 
shivered. 

"Help  I  Help  I"  he  yelled.  Panting,  he  lay  still 
and  stared  dizzily  into  the  darkness. 

Presently  a  point  of  light  appeared  far  away.  It 
flickered  and  burned  blue  as  though  struggling 
mightily  to  support  the  weight  of  night  that  crushed 
about  its  small  globular  day.  Waters  blinked  at  the 
unaccustomed  light  and  wondered.  He  closed  his 
eye  doubtfully.  "Pve  sure  got  'em I*'  he  muttered; 
"Seein'  and  hearin'  all  sorts  of  things !  Wisht  I  had 
a  drink!" 

A  sound  of  bare  feet  approaching  on  the  damp 
floor  made  him  open  his  eye.  The  light  had  grown 
larger,  and  he  could  distinguish  the  head  of  a  man 
in  the  circular  glow,  the  trunk  being  hidden  in  the 
shadow. 

"Seein'  em'  again!"  he  muttered  with  bitter  mirth. 
"Man's  head  now,  a-walkin'  through  the  air  'thout 
no  legs !     Better'n  snakes,  though !" 

The  approaching  head  shook  with  violent  cough- 
ing, and  the  light  flickered  in  a  trembling  hand. 
Slowly  the  footsteps  came  near  and  the  globe  of 
light  waxed  larger  and  more  brilliant,  until  it  en- 


92  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

gulfed  Waters.  He  closed  his  eye  that  ached  with 
the  paradox  of  light  in  this  sepulchral  somewhere. 

At  the  sound  of  violent  coughing  near  him 
Waters  opened  his  eye  and  saw  an  old  man  stand- 
ing in  the  centre  of  the  zone  of  light  cast  by  an 
upheld  candle.  His  head  was  large,  and  to  a  student 
of  mythology  would  have  suggested  Zeus.  His  fore- 
head was  massive  and  seamed  with  horizontal 
wrinkles.  Bushy  eyebrows,  giving  a  sinister  appear- 
ance, clustered  above  his  deep-set  eyes  that  shone 
with  the  unusual  brilliance  of  erratic  strength. 

His  gray  hair  hung  in  careless  tangles  about  his 
head.  His  shoulders  were  broad  and  stooped,  and 
about  them  was  thrown  a  loose  dark  robe,  leaving 
a  sunken  chest  bare,  hideous  with  shrunken  muscles 
traced  deeply  with  the  shadows  of  the  sputtering 
candle. 

The  man  stood  motionless  for  many  minutes,  save 
when  he  was  shaken  by  violent  coughing.  His  eyes 
were  held  upon  Waters  without  a  blink  to  break  the 
wild  glare  of  his  gaze.  Waters,  lying  helplessly 
upon  his  back,  shivered.  He  caught  himself  remem- 
bering the  ogres  of  nightmare  that  had  stared  down 
through  closely  drawn  blankets  upon  him  when  he 
was  a  child.  With  a  shudder  he  closed  his  eye.  Sud- 
denly his  accustomed  bitter  weariness  of  life  came 
upon  him.  He  looked  up  at  the  old  man  before  him 
and  grinned. 

"Well,  you  gray-whiskered  old  goat,"  he  said, 
"I'm  dry!    Got  any  wet  goods  concealed  about  your 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  93 

pockets?"  He  forced  a  dry  loud  laugh  that  rang 
down  the  vaulted  darkness. 

"I  came  to  kill  you!"  said  the  old  man  in  a  deep 
vibrant  voice. 

"That  all?"  queried  Waters,  with  the  bravado  of 
exhausted  nerves.  And  he  laughed  again  loud  and 
long. 

For  the  first  time  across  the  face  of  the  old  man 
flashed  a  human  expression.  It  was  one  of  surprise 
that  by  degrees  transformed  the  habitual  malevo- 
lence of  his  features  into  something  almost  kindly. 
Suddenly  the  light  in  his  face  vanished,  and  the  ma- 
levolence returned.  He  deliberately  pulled  a  long- 
bladed  knife  from  his  garments. 

Waters  had  reached  that  stage  of  nervous  excite- 
ment in  which  fear  vanishes.  The  bitterness  of  the 
past  weeks  and  the  dying  of  the  liquor  in  his  head 
had  subdued  the  natural  instinct  to  cherish  life. 
When  the  old  man  stooped  to  place  the  blade  at  his 
throat,  Waters  grinned. 

"Better  whet  it  on  your  boot  some — tough  hide!" 
he  remarked. 

The  old  man's  body  was  straightened  in  surprise. 
The  knife  dropped  to  the  ground. 

"You  are  not  afraidf^  he  whispered,  with  a  light 
as  of  recognition  in  his  eyes. 

"Me  afeerd?"  Waters  laughed  again.  "Say,  old 
man,  you're  only  a  dream — hain't  you?  Get  away! 
I  don't  want  to  dream  no  more.    Want  to  sleep." 

The  massive  gray  head  fell  upon  the  sunken  chest 


94  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

as  in  profound  thought.     Then  slowly,  sonorously, 
like  the  speaking  of  an  oracle,  the  old  man  said: 

**You  are  the  man  of  whom  I  have  been  dreaming 
for  years!     You  have  come  at  last!" 


Ill 

The  Physician  of  the  Universe 

When  the  old  man  had  cut  the  cords  that  bound 
Waters,  he  took  the  candle  from  the  ground  where 
he  had  placed  it.  "Come,"  he  said.  Waters,  feel- 
ing again  the  freedom  of  his  limbs,  stood  still  and 
tried  to  find  himself. 

"Shall  I  throttle  this  old  goat?"  he  queried  men- 
tally, "and  run?  Where'll  I  run  to?  Wonder  if 
Vm  dreamin' !"  He  struck  himself  a  blow  on  the 
point  of  the  chin.  "No,  you  ain't  a-dreamin\"  he 
muttered;  "Waters,  you  ain't  asleep.  Wonder  if 
there's  any  liquor  in  these  parts !" 

The  candle  of  the  retreating  old  man  burned  blue 
and  grew  smaller  and  more  weird  in  the  intervening 
darkness.  "Guess  he  knows  how  he  got  in  here," 
Waters  mused;  and  he  followed  rapidly  after  the 
waning  light.  When  he  had  overtaken  the  hobbling 
old  man,  he  was  breathless  and  bewildered.  "Say, 
old  man,  for  God's  sake,  am  I  awake?"  he  gasped. 

"Living  is  a  nightmare,"  replied  the  old  man, 
wheezing  with  the  damp  and  the  rapid  gait  he  had 
taken;  "I  alone  in  all  the  world  am  awake.     Come, 

95 


96  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

you,  too,  shall  waken  I"  The  words  were  spoken 
with  the  nonchalant  precision  of  a  catechism  lesson. 

^'Somebody  hain't  right,"  muttered  Waters,  shak- 
ing his  head  in  bewilderment;  ''somebody's  got  'em! 

Is  it  him  or  me,  me  or  him "     Suddenly  the  old 

man  was  swallowed  with  his  candle  in  the  darkness. 

"Dad!  Dad!"  shouted  Waters  with  a  sudden 
access  of  tenderness  in  his  childish  terror.  He 
rushed  headlong  into  the  darkness  and  soon  came 
in  sight  of  the  old  man  again,  stooping  to  pass 
through  an  aperture  in  the  wall  of  the  cavernous 
place.  He  stooped  and  followed,  finding  himself 
in  a  room  with  walls  of  rock  that  were  visible  in 
the  wan  twilight  coming  in  through  an  opening  at 
the  further  end.  When  his  eye  had  at  length  become 
accustomed  to  the  light.  Waters  became  aware  of  a 
collection  of  books,  stacked  row  upon  row  to  the 
roof  of  the  place.  In  one  corner  stood  a  table  bear- 
ing papers,  books  and  writing  utensils.  Before  it 
was  a  block  of  wood  serving  for  a  chair.  The  old 
man  motioned  Waters  to  sit  down  upon  the  block  of 
wood.  Then  with  a  kind,  almost  paternal,  expres- 
sion upon  his  stern  features,  he  approached  his  won- 
dering guest. 

"Poor  aching  human  Atom!"  he  began  in  a  soft 
caressing  voice;  "you  have  suffered  much,  have  you 
not?  Felt  great  longings  that  whipped  your  poor 
blood  into  a  fever.  You  have  dreamed  and  thirsted 
for  vast  impossible  oceans;  and  you  have  awakened 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  97 

with  your  tongue  bitter  and  dry  as  dust.  Is  it  not 
so?" 

"Y-e-s,  Dad,"  answered  Waters  in  a  weak  voice. 
He  was  not  so  sure  about  the  oceans  in  particular; 
but  at  that  moment  he  was  prodigiously  dry.  He 
half  expected  the  old  man  to  produce  a  demijohn 
from  beneath  his  garments. 

Oh,  for  a  keg — two  kegs — three  kegs  of  the 
buried  treasure ! 

Phew-00-00-00 !  He  blew  a  long  dry  breath 
through  his  parched  lips.  "Yes,  yes.  Dad,"  he  said, 
and  eyed  the  nooks  of  the  place  hopefully. 

"Poor  aching  Atom !"  monotonously  continued  the 
old  man.  "Poor  aching  Atom,  driven  in  the  pitiless 
dust  storm  of  the  universe!" 

Phew-00-00-00,  went  Waters  a  second  time.  The 
prospect  was  very  arid. 

"Listen!"  whispered  the  old  man,  assuming  an 
attitude  of  profound  attention.  "Can  you  not  hear 
the  crying  of  souls,  pinched,  goaded,  burned,  be- 
labored with  passion?  Like  desperate  swimmers  in 
a  stream  fierce  with  eddies,  they  fight  with  the  piti- 
less swirl  of  the  universe !" 

Phew-00-00-00,  went  Waters  a  third  time,  but 
with  an  optimistic  upward  inflection.  The  simile  of 
the  stream  was  much  more  promising  than  the  pre- 
vious dust  storm. 

"They  are  crying  aloud  for  death!"  said  the  old 
man,    *'The  word  is  a  mockery!    It  is  the  name  of 


98  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

a  nothing.  Procreate  I  Beget  other  sentience !  In- 
carnate more  suffering!  Let  us  have  more  voices 
to  cry  out  the  universal  pang!  Give  the  universe 
innumerable  tongues  I    It  has  a  fever  to  talk  about !" 

"Uh — huh,"  idiotically  assented  Waters,  with  a 
conciliatory  inflection.  He  was  somewhat  fright- 
ened, and  his  thirst  was  not  growing  less.  He 
wanted  to  awaken  a  responsive  chord  of  comrade- 
ship in  his  strange  companion.  But  during  a  mo- 
ment's silence  the  eyes  of  the  other  glared  in  the 
half  light  of  the  place. 

"Look  at  me!  What  do  you  see?  You  see  a 
man  like  yourself,  but  shrunken  with  suffering!" 

Waters  was  now  staring  with  a  fascinated  gaze. 
Something  strong  and  subtle  in  the  old  man  held  the 
bleared  eye  of  Waters.    He  could  not  look  away. 

"Look  again!  What  do  you  see?  You  see  a  Ti- 
tanic Idea.     / — am — about — to  be — GodT* 

The  last  words  were  uttered  in  a  low  sibilant  tone. 
A  tremor  passed  over  the  body  of  Waters.  His  face 
paled;  his  breath  came  quicker  and  more  labored. 

"When  I  was  a  child,  breathing  the  first  painful 
breath  of  existence,  a  great  revelation  came  to  me  in 
a  vision.  At  first  it  only  terrified  me.  I  grew  in 
wisdom,  and  the  vision  became  a  reality.  I  resolved 
to  banish  suffering.  This  I  resolved  to  do  for  love 
of  my  fellows,  who  are  blind  and  can  not  see  the 
vision."  The  old  man's  voice  was  soft  but  penetrat- 
ing.    "They  laughed  at  me.     What  did  I  care? 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  99 

They  drove  me  into  the  Wilderness.  What  do  I 
care — I  who  am  about  to  be  God?" 

The  old  man  drew,  near  to  Waters  and  closed  the 
staring  eye  with  a  soft  touch  of  his  fingers. 

"You,  too,  shall  see  the  vision.  You  are  now 
lifted  far  above  the  earth.  You  can  see  it  all — 
mountains,  valleys,  plains,  hills,  rivers,  cities;  you 
see  it  all.  Look!"  He  spoke  sharply,  raising  his 
voice  to  a  commanding  pitch. 

A  sensation  of  being  lifted  came  over  Waters. 
It  seemed  he  looked  downward  from  a  great  height. 

A  dim  consciousness  of  the  voice  of  the  old  man 
crept  into  the  brain  of  Waters.  As  the  voice  con- 
tinued, Waters  saw  what  it  said.  He  took  the  whole 
world  in  at  a  glance.  From  his  great  altitude  men 
were  very  small.  They  were  as  innumerable  ants 
toiling  upon  a  hill;  toiling  to  build  that  which 
crumbled  under  the  toilers'  touch.  A  seething  mass 
of  life,  striving,  fighting,  killing,  begetting,  writhing 
in  pain  that  led  to  greater  pain.  A  howling,  shriek- 
ing mass,  living  that  it  might  suffer  and  die;  dying 
that  it  might  be  born  again.  A  mad  grasping  after 
nothing!  It  was  all  as  though  a  wanton  creator, 
vicious  with  lonesomeness,  had  incarnated  a  night- 
mare— something  to  satisfy  the  morbid  itch  of  giant 
nerves ! 

The  voice  ceased.  With  a  sickening  sense  of 
rapid  falling.  Waters  opened  his  eye  and  found  him- 
self staring  upon  the  old  man. 


100  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

'Tou  have  seen  it/'  said  the  old  man  quietly.  **Is 
it  not  terrible?" 

*'Y — e — s,"  replied  Waters  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Listen!"  resumed  the  old  man.  "Twenty-five 
years  ago  I  conceived  a  plan  to  annihilate  all  suf- 
fering. Never  in  the  innumerable  ages  since  the 
nebulous  infinite  fevered  into  consciousness  has  so 
colossal  an  idea  as  mine  been  conceived.  Archimedes 
of  old  dreamed  of  a  mighty  lever.  It  remained  to 
me — me — to  supply  the  fulcrum  for  that  lever. 
Listen!  You  shall  hear  it  all.  You  shall  feel  the 
omnipotence  of  my  sublime  Idea.  There  is  but  one 
thing — Matter.  It  is  eternal  and  infinite.  It  is 
Space.  Matter  is  composed  of  molecules,  each  of 
which  is  attracted  to  the  other,  owing  to  a  certain 
relative  juxtaposition. 

"This  attraction  is  Life,  Force,  Soul,  Spirit,  which 
have  been  personified  as  Brahm,  Ahriman,  Wotan, 
Jove,  Osiris,  Jehovah,  and  all  the  fabled  beings  of 
the  pantheon  of  Man." 

"Uh  huh,"  assented  Waters  in  an  appeasing  man- 
ner, as  of  one  who  solicits  mercy. 

"Matter  was  originally  an  inert  mass  in  the  vast 
darkness.  Action  is  therefore  abnormal.  Then,  is 
not  conscious  life,  which  is  a  form  of  action,  the 
Malady  of  Matter?  The  names  of  the  gods  are 
men's  names  for  the  infinite  disease !  Mythology  is 
the  Pathology  of  Space!" 

Waters  shuffled  nervously  but  did  not  shift  his 
gaze  as  the  old  man  continued. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  loi 

"Consciousness  is  one  phase  of  the  attraction  be- 
tween molecules,  when  a  certain  requisite  relative  po- 
sition occurs.  The  most  familiar  instance  of  mole- 
cules in  such  relation  each  to  each  is  the  animal  brain. 
It  is  not  the  only  dwelling  of  consciousness.  Through- 
out Space,  attraction  is  identical.  The  Systems,  with 
their  planets  corresponding  to  the  brain's  molecules, 
compose  an  infinite  Brain  that  aches  with  a  terrible 
Thought.     The  Universe  tosses  in  a  nightmare!" 

The  next  sentence  was  spoken  almost  in  a  whisper. 

*'It  is  left  to  me  to  be  the  Physician  of  the  Uni- 
verse !  Life  of  itself  can  not  die,"  continued  the  old 
man;  "it  merely  acts  in  another  way.  In  order  to 
stop  the  life  of  the  smallest  animalcule  it  would  be 
necessary  to  check  the  innumerable  systems  1" 

The  old  man  ceased  speaking  for  a  moment.  The 
light  in  his  eyes  blazed  into  a  glare  of  triumph  as 
he  spoke  the  next  sentence. 

*'It  is  that  which  we  shall  do!'* 

The  daring  words  shivered  down  the  dark  vaults 
and  died  into  a  menacing  whisper. 

"Listen!"  He  hurled  the  word  into  the  momen- 
tary silence.  "Unity  of  vibration  is  life.  Con- 
trariety of  attraction  in  the  most  infinitesimal  part 
of  the  systems,  would  neutralize  their  charmed  mo- 
tion. It  would  be  as  a  discord  shattering  a  harmony. 
The  sustaining  motion  being  removed,  the  systems 
would  collapse  into  Chaos — dark,  cold,  pulseless, 
painless !  A  shower  of  impotent  dust !  The  dream 
of  the  ancient  Greek  shall  be  realized  through  me  1 


102  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

It  shall  be  an  avenging  of  the  wrongs  of  Chance 
since  pangless  Eternity  fevered  into  aching  Time  I 
And  I  shall  be  the  Avenger — I — IF' 

The  voice  grew  into  a  muffled  shout.  A  terrible 
ecstasy  shook  the  frail  frame  of  the  old  man.  His 
face  was  transfigured  with  a  sublime  anger.  Sud- 
denly he  paled.  He  reeled  like  a  drunken  man. 
The  veins  upon  his  forehead  and  neck  swelled  blue. 
His  head  dropped  upon  his  sunken  chest.  And  then 
the  whole  form  collapsed  into  a  writhing  heap  upon 
the  ground. 

Waters  leaped  to  his  feet  and  tried  to  shout.  He 
could  not  make  a  sound.  A  cold  tremor  ran  up  his 
spine  and  chilled  the  base  of  his  brain.  His  teeth 
chattered.  Then  he  turned  and  dashed  through  the 
opening  at  the  further  end  of  the  place,  through 
which  the  kind  light  of  day  filtered  dimly. 

He  reached  the  surface  and  found  himself  inside 
a  log  hut.  Finding  the  door,  he  rushed  against  it 
with  his  shoulder.  The  wood  yielded  and  he  found 
himself  in  the  open  air.  It  was  evening,  with  a  red 
glow  slanting  downward  from  the  West  through 
a  heavy  growth  of  timber. 

A  path  lay  before  him.  He  dashed  wildly  down 
it.  He  would  leap  into  the  river !  He  would  leave 
this  cursed  island  of  nightmare !  A  love  and  long- 
ing for  the  great  selfish  world,  which  he  had  left, 
rushed  back  upon  him. 

Suddenly,  as  he  ran,  a  wild  and  beautiful  sound 
grew  up  in  the  evening  stillness.    It  was  not  merely 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  103 

a  shout;  it  was  not  as  a  song.  Yet  it  was  both  far 
reaching  and  musical.  As  though  the  sound  were  a 
tangible  barrier,  Waters  stopped  and  listened. 
Words  floated  in  the  sound. 

Farewell,  Friend  of  the  red  hair. 

Friend  of  the  glowing  face,  friend  of  the  blaz- 
ing hair! 

Sleepy  Friend,  sleep  not  long  in  the  under  dark. 

Listen,  I  sing  you  to  sleep ! 

Through  the  long  night  I  shall  hunger  for  you. 

Through  the  dreary  dusk  I  shall  dream  of  you. 

I  shall  draw  your  glowing  face  upon  the  shadows, 

Your  flaming  hair  upon  the  darkness; 

I  shall  thirst  for  your  dawn-kiss, 

Hunger  for  your  morning  caress  I 

Sleepy  Friend,  covering  your  face  with  a  cloudy 
arm. 

Sleep  not  long! 

The  sound,  sonorously  soft,  rose  in  a  thrilling 
crescendo  and  died  into  lingering  echoes.  Waters 
listened  breathlessly.  Like  a  powerful  intoxicant  the 
sound  soothed  his  shaken  nerves.  When  it  had 
ceased,  he  cautiously  approached  the  place  where  it 
had  died. 

As  he  reached  a  little  knoll,  he  stopped  and  stared 
in  bewilderment.  The  path  before  him  led  to  the 
basin  of  a  large,  clear  spring,  lined  at  the  brink  with 
mosses;  and  there,  waist-deep  in  the  water,  was  the 
exquisite  figure  of  a  young  woman.  Her  skin  glowed 
with  the  cool  bath.    Her  body  was  slender  but  per- 


104  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

fectly  formed,  and  her  limbs  moved  with  the  subtle 
grace  that  characterizes  the  movements  of  wild 
animals. 

Waters  pushed  a  branch  aside  and  stepped  for- 
ward. As  he  did  so,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  twig 
startled  the  fair  bather.  Her  arms,  dripping  with 
the  cool  water,  were  checked  in  air.  Her  head  was 
thrown  back  in  surprise  and  expectation.  Suddenly 
the  setting  sun  drove  a  shaft  of  light  through  a  rift 
in  the  leaves,  illuminating  the  region  of  the  spring. 
The  girPs  wet  body  sparkled  in  the  glare.  Her 
heavy  red-gold  hair,  tossed  carelessly  upon  her 
shoulders  and  flowing  down  her  back,  glinted  as  a 
trailing  gossamer  cloud  smitten  by  the  last  shaft  of 
the  day. 

Waters  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  knelt  in 
the  path.  His  brain  reeled.  He  was  dizzy  with  the 
supernatural  vision.  It  was  as  a  madman's  rehabil- 
itation of  some  clinging  Grecian  legend.  For  many 
enchanted  minutes  Waters  dared  not  look  toward 
the  spring.  When  at  length  he  looked  up,  there  was 
nothing  before  him  but  the  pool  of  water,  a  faintly 
glinting  splotch  of  silver,  darkening  slowly  with  the 
fall  of  night. 


IV 

The  Compelling  Dream 

For  many  charmed  minutes  Waters  remained  mo- 
tionless, staring  fixedly  upon  the  darkening  pool.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  dare  not  stir.  Something 
terrible  in  beauty  was  potential  in  the  shadows  deep- 
ening about  him.  He  scarcely  breathed.  Was  it 
a  woman — this  thing  of  air  and  sunlight?  Was  it  a 
dream-^this  seeming  incarnation  of  evening? 
Beauty  is  terrible  to  those  unaccustomed  to  gaze 
upon  it.  The  imperfect  had  gazed  upon  Perfection. 
Could  this  exalted  something  be  a  woman?  The 
women  of  Waters'  life  had  cooked  and  darned  and 
scrubbed.  Could  this  Something  cook  and  darn  and 
scrub?  Waters  was  seized  with  a  cynical  doubt  that 
broke  the  spell.  He  rubbed  his  hand  across  his  face. 
It  seemed  that  he  had  brushed  something  away.  The 
pool  had  grown  dark,  except  for  the  faint  silver  glint 
of  an  early  star,  looking  downward  through  the 
leaves. 

"Huh!"  he  ejaculated,  getting  unsteadily  to  his 
feet.  "Beats  the  devil  how  liquor  does  stay  by  you 
these  days.  Waters!     Seein'  things!     Every  which 

105 


io6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

kind  of  a  thing!  Blue  blazes,  Mr.  Waters,  do  drag 
yourself  together  somehow!  You're  seein*  with 
t'other  eye.  That  eye  always  gets  to  seein'  things 
t'other  can't  when  liquor  gets  into  you ! 

"Phewroo-oo.  Liquor!  I'm  drier'n  air-slacked 
lime!" 

Waters,  shuddering  with  the  memory  of  the  old 
man,  hurried  on  to  the  shore,  and  came  upon  the 
spot  where  he  had  been  placed  by  the  crew  of  the 
Emilie,  To  his  great  joy,  he  discovered  the  jug  of 
liquor  and  the  victuals  which  had  been  left  beside 
him.    He  pounced  upon  the  jug  first. 

''Guess  I'll  eat  and  drink  first  and  swim  some- 
wheres  afterwards.  Say,  old  Stomach,"  he  apos- 
trophized with  a  sudden  access  of  hilarity;  "been 
pretty  dusty  down  there,  hain't  it?  I  bet  it  has! 
Here  comes  a  shower.  Look  out!"  He  tipped  the 
jug  to  his  lips  and  drank  deeply,  finishing  with  a 
snort  of  relief.  "How  you  like  the  fall  showers 
after  the  hot  summer,  huh?"  he  continued,  address- 
ing his  digestive  organ.  "I  see  heavy  clouds  on  the 
horizon.  Guess  it's  goin'  to  rain  some  more — about 
four  fingers,  I  guess."  He  tipped  the  jug  a  second 
time  and  drank  until  his  face  was  purple.  Then  he 
fell  to  the  victuals  and  ate  ravenously.  Meanwhile 
the  last  pale  glow  failed  in  the  West,  and  the  stars 
sprinkled  cold  fire  on  the  river. 

Waters,  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  remembered 
that  he  ought  to  have  a  pipe  and  some  tobacco  about 
him.    He  found  both,  together  with  a  small  supply 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  107 

of  matches.  Then  he  lit  his  pipe.  He  sat  com- 
fortably with  his  arms  upon  his  knees  and  stared  out 
across  the  river.  A  thin  white  streamer  of  smoke 
wavered  starward  from  his  pipe. 

*'Now  this  is  comfort — it  is  that!"  mused  he. 
**Hain't  much  comp'ny  hereabouts  tho'.  But 
company  hain't  much  use  to  a  feller  nohow.  Puff — 
puff — puff.  Feller's  got  to — puff — puff — puff — ^just 
about  be  his  own  comp'ny  in  this  here  world.  Beats 
all  how  a  little  grub  does  change  the  complexion  of 
things.  Takes  the  freckles  off'n  the  face  of  Nature. 
There's  several  blessin's  in  the  world  after  all. 
Some  of  'em's  in  barrels.  Now  there's  liquor  I 
S'prisin'  what  it'll  do  for  you !  I  recollect  drinkin' 
enough  onc't  to  make  me  think  I  was  emp'rer  of  the 
Chinese  with  the  sun  a-shinin'  up  at  me !  Great 
thing  I     Puff — puff — puff. 

"Say,"  he  continued  with  temulent  incoherence: 
**Wonder,  was  it  a  woman!  Wisht  it  was!"  He 
was  seized  with  a  violent  hiccoughing  which  marred 
his  temporary  optimism. 

"If  it  was  a  woman,  what'd  you  do  with  your  bad 
eye  and  your  wooden  leg,  Waters?  Huh?"  He  ut- 
tered the  interrogatory  sound  with  a  snarl  of  bitter- 
ness. "Huh?  huh?"  he  repeated  with  insulting  in- 
sistence, as  if  to  taunt  his  own  imperfections  for 
being  his. 

His  head  began  to  swim.  By  contiguity  of 
thought,  the  old  pessimism  which  had  accompanied 
so  many  of  his  past  sprees,  seized  him.    "  'Tain't  no 


io8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

infernal  use,"  he  muttered;  "  'tain'tl"  He  dropped 
his  head  on  his  knees  and  fell  into  slumber. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  barely  fallen  asleep  when 
he  heard  a  voice  close  to  his  ear:    ^'WakeT 

Waters  raised  his  head  and  found  that  he  had 
fallen  upon  his  side.  The  East  was  red  with  early 
dawn.  He  blinked  in  the  light  and  rubbed  his  eye. 
Then  he  sat  up  and  looked  about.  The  old  man 
stood  before  him.  His  face  was  pale  and  there 
were  deep  blue  circles  under  his  lustreless  eyes.  His 
body  trembled.  The  terrible  nervous  energy  that 
had  emanated  from  him  the  night  before  was  lack- 
ing.   Waters  stared. 

"Do  not  fear  me,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  weak, 
almost  pitiful  voice.  "This  morning  I  am  power- 
less, even  as  yourself.  I  am  so  lonesome.  Talk  to 
me.  Let  me  hear  the  voice  of  another  who  has  suf- 
fered. Oh,  it  is  terrible  to  be  a  man.  Let  us  be 
friends.  Let  us  cling  desperately  together."  The 
words  were  uttered  without  force. 

"Yes,  Dad,"  said  Waters;  "Let's  be  friends. 
Hain't  nobody  cares  for  me.     Be  my  Dad!" 

"What  do  men  call  you?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"They  didn't  hardly  ever  call  me,"  repHed 
Waters.  "They  didn't  need  me.  My  name's 
Waters." 

"Waters,"  said  the  old  man  pensively;  "I  need 
you,  I  who  carry  a  desert  in  my  breast.  You  will 
indeed  be  waters  to  me." 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  109 

They  were  silent  for  some  time.  The  miracle  of 
dawn  was  in  development.  The  river  before  them 
glittered.  There  was  birdsong  above  them.  The 
old  man  broke  the  silence. 

"I  terrified  you  with  what  seemed  vagaries  to  you. 
Vagaries?  Look  into  my  breast!  Are  not  mirages 
natural  to  a  desert?'* 

There  was  a  second  and  a  longer  silence.  Then 
the  old  man  spoke  again.  "Waters,  I  have  dreamed 
so  long.  I  am  like  a  rag-weed  that  has  drooped  and 
sulked  and  dreamed  all  through  the  heat  of  the  Sum- 
mer. To-day  I  feel  the  frost  upon  my  head.  I 
begin  to  love  the  sun.  Can  you  laugh,  Waters? 
When  I  was  a  boy,  before  this  great  dream  came,  I 
remember  that  I  could  laugh.  I  will  try  again." 
The  old  man  made  a  pitiful  grimace  and  cackled  far 
down  in  his  throat.  "I  can't  laugh,"  he  whispered 
with  terror  in  his  voice.  "Waters,  can  you  laugh? 
You  look  as  though  you  could  laugh.     Laugh  F* 

"Don't  feel  like  it,  Dad." 

^'LaughP^  cried  the  old  man,  some  of  the  former 
energy  rushing  into  his  eyes. 

"I'll  try,  Dad."  Waters  delivered  himself  of  a 
loud  ha-ha  that  was  far  from  merry. 

"There!"  cried  the  old  man  triumphantly. 
"Laugh  again!" 

"Mebbe  if  you'd  tickle  me  in  the  ribs  I  could 
laugh  better,"  said  Waters  naively. 

The  old  man,  with  the  seriousness  of  a  surgeon 


no  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

at  a  difficult  operation,  tickled  Waters  at  the  indi- 
cated place.  Waters,  seized  with  the  ridiculousness 
of  the  situation,  laughed  merrily,  loud  and  long. 

The  old  man  was  ecstatic.  ''I  would  give  my  om- 
nipotent Idea  for  the  power  of  laughter,"  he  said. 
Then  the  old  shadows  came  back  into  his  face. 
"No,"  he  continued  wearily;  "I  am  driven  by  the 
Dream.  I  must  dispel  the  nightmare  of  the  Uni- 
verse!    I  must  be  God  I" 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  his  emaciated  body  vi- 
brant with  mad  power.  He  stood  for  a  moment 
trembling.     Then  he  sat  down  again  beside  Waters. 

"I  must  tell  you  of  my  great  dream,"  he  began. 
"You  shall  aid  me.  You  shall  be  the  lieutenant  of 
a  god!  Think  of  that!  Listen!"  While  gazing 
into  the  old  man's  eyes.  Waters  felt  the  strange  sen- 
sation of  loss  of  self-control  that  he  had  felt  the  day 
before. 

"My  name  was  Ambrose  Ambrosen.  Now  I  am 
a  great  dream  fleshed.  I  need  no  name.  I  am 
unique  in  the  Universe.  I  was  born  in  Boston.  My 
parents  gave  me  unusual  educational  advantages. 
But  school  did  little  for  me.  It  was  the  Dream! 
I  was  eighteen  years  old  when  the  great  plan  was 
conceived.  I  remember  I  had  been  wandering  in  a 
dismal  cloud  for  months,  driven  by  a  great  despair. 
I  remember  one  night  I  walked  the  floor  of  my  room 
after  midnight,  my  brain  convulsed  with  inexplicable 
anguish.     Suddenly,  as  I  pondered  the  question  of 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  iii 

the  banishment  of  universal  suffering,  a  great  light 
shot  through  my  brain.  It  was  day  suddenly  burn- 
ing the  zenith  of  midnight.  The  solution  of  the 
Dream  had  come!  I  had  conceived  the  Titanic 
Idea.  I  would  be,  not  the  petty  savior  of  a  race; 
not  even  a  creator.  Selfishness  creates.  No,  I 
would  be  the  universal  Annihilatorl  I  would  pull 
down  the  cosmic  pillars  about  my  head,  and  become 
an  atom  in  a  pangless  shower  of  dust! 

*'I  was  absorbed  in  my  great  Dream.  Ambrosen 
was  no  more.  There  was  only  a  human  form  encas- 
ing an  awful  Idea. 

"In  my  ecstasy  I  ventured  to  tell  my  Dream.  My 
friends  stared  and  then  shunned  me.  They  called 
me  mad,  because  I  saw  clearly  and  with  the  perfect 
vision.  I  entered  into  a  terrible  isolation.  I  lost 
the  power  of  laughter.  I  was  without  country,  kin, 
companions.  I  toiled  unceasingly  with  my  great 
problem  alone.  With  mathematics  I  bombarded  the 
universe.  Ah,  it  is  sublime  to  be  alone — but  it  is 
terrible r*  The  old  man's  voice  fell  from  its  ex- 
cited pitch  to  an  impressive  whisper.  His  eyes  were 
brilliant.  Suddenly  they  grew  soft.  His  voice  arose 
again  in  a  low  musical  tone. 

"But  one  day,  when  I  was  near  thirty,  a  human 
being  crept  into  my  isolation,  as  a  subtle,  clinging 
perfume  creeps.  It  was  a  beautiful  girl.  Her  hair 
was  like  a  golden  sunset.  Her  face  was  delicately 
formed  as  a  dream  face.    She  was  slender  and  frail. 


112  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

She  believed  in  my  dream.  She  did  not  believe  be- 
cause she  understood,  but  because  she  loved  the 
dreamer. 

*'At  the  death  of  my  father  I  received  a  large 
fortune.  What  was  money  to  me?  Dust!  I  de- 
cided to  use  it  as  a  means  for  complete  isolation,  the 
better  to  elaborate  my  plan.  I  bought  a  small  river 
vessel  at  New  Orleans,  and  loaded  it  with  every- 
thing necessary  for  the  accomplishment  of  my  great 
task.  I  omitted  nothing.  I  brought  my  books ;  also 
I  brought  goats,  and  many  varieties  of  seeds,  that 
the  body  might  have  food.  How  poor  a  thing  is 
flesh  to  be  a  part  of  a  god's  conception! 

"I  bought  a  few  negroes  for  a  crew,  ascended  the 
Mississippi,  thence  up  the  Missouri  into  the  Wilder- 
ness. I  chose  this  island  because  it  seemed  to  be 
adapted  to  my  needs.  Here  I  could  nurture  the 
mighty  dream.  That  was  twenty  years  ago.  The 
boat  and  the  crew  are  out  yonder."  The  old  man 
indicated  the  river's  channel  with  a  sweep  of  the 
arm.  "Three  years  of  ecstasy  passed,"  he  con- 
tinued. "I  thought  I  saw  the  success  of  my  under- 
taking. But  the  girl  wept  at  nights ;  and  often  in  the 
mornings  I  would  miss  her  at  my  side  to  find  her 
gazing  wistfully  across  the  river  into  the  sunrise; 
gazing  with  eyes  that  slowly  lost  their  lustre,  always 
into  the  East. 

"I  did  not  say,  *Let  us  go  back' ;  we  could  not  go 
back.    And  then — there  was  the  Dream — always  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  113 

Dream.  In  the  Spring  of  the  third  year  she  died 
giving  birth  to  a  girl.'* 

At  the  mention  of  the  girl,  Waters  started  and 
would  have  spoken,  but  the  old  man  continued 
dreamily:  "Then  for  a  time  I  was  only  a  man, 
lonesome  and  broken-hearted.  I  forgot  to  dream. 
It  seemed  as  though  I  were  one  who  had  dwelt  in  a 
spacious  temple,  magnificent  with  columns  and  mys- 
terious with  dim  colonnades,  tenanted  by  a  spirit  that 
filled  the  magnificence  and  was  the  life  of  the  mys- 
tery. The  spirit  had  left  my  temple.  I  became 
afraid  of  its  vastness.  I  had  never  before  been  con- 
scious of  the  possible  terrors  of  silence  and  vast- 
ness. I  hid  my  face,  but  I  heard  her  speaking  in  the 
nightwind.  I  dared  not  look  upon  the  dawn  or  the 
sunset,  lest  I  should  see  her  gloriously  burning  hair, 
out  of  reach,  always  out  of  reach. 

"For  a  space  all  things  were  jumbled,  and  I  was 
conscious  only  of  a  great  ache  thrust  through  the 
darkness  about  me  like  a  blade.  I  do  not  know  how 
long  this  continued.  I  only  know  that  a  small  cry 
aroused  me.  It  was  the  cry  of  the  child,  hungry 
and  wishing  to  live.  Then  I  lost  for  a  time  all  my 
bitterness  toward  the  scheme  of  things.  I,  who  had 
dared  to  believe  in  nothing,  setting  my  face  toward 
infinite  darkness  and  silence,  grew  to  love  the  sun- 
light and  the  singing  of  birds ;  because  I  had  uncon- 
sciously absorbed  the  spirit  of  the  child.  I  vowed 
to  teach  the  girl  in  such  a  way  that  she  might  grow 


114  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

flowerlike  sunward.  From  the  time  that  she  learned 
to  lisp,  I  read  the  poets  to  her.  And  when  I  had 
taught  her  to  read,  these  became  her  companions — 
the  poets  and  the  sunlight  and  the  birds.'' 

As  the  old  man  spoke,  his  face  had  grown  steadily 
more  expressive  of  tenderness,  until  a  something 
seraphic  shone  in  his  eyes. 

"Dad,"  whispered  Waters  awesomely:  "I  seen 
her  last  night!  She  was  a-burnin'  on  her  head.  I 
could  see  clean  through  her — only  there  wasn't 
nothin'  on  t'other  side  but  sunlight!  And  I  heard 
her  sing,  like  the  wind  used  to  sing  around  the  house 
of  nights  when  I  was  a  little  feller.  Was  it  her, 
Dad?    Was  it  real?" 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  his  eyes  became  lus- 
treless. 

"Nothing  is  real,"  he  said  wearily;  "nothing  but 
suffering.  Come,  let  us  go.  To-morrow  we  shall 
begin  the  great  task.    Will  you  help  me,  Waters?" 

Although  Waters'  conception  of  the  task  in  hand 
was  exceedingly  vague,  the  memory  of  the  brilliant 
something  that  had  burned  upward  from  the  crystal 
pool  helped  him  to  answer  almost  joyfully:  "Yes, 
Dad!" 

They  walked  toward  the  interior  of  the  island. 
After  a  long  silence,  the  old  man  said:  "I  have 
been  so  weak  to-day,  Waters.  What  if  even  I  be 
only  a  man?" 


The  Mystic  Chord  of  Seven  Strings 

When  the  two,  walking  down  a  woodland  path 
together,  came  in  sight  of  the  log  house  from  which 
Waters  had  fled  the  evening  before,  he  noted  with 
wonder  that  a  column  of  smoke  ascended  from  the 
rude  clay  chimney.  Also,  the  scent  of  something 
cooking  gladdened  his  nostrils.  Since  leaving  the 
shore  the  old  man  had  lapsed  into  a  deep  study, 
walking  along  with  his  arms  behind  his  back,  his 
head  bent  forward,  muttering  unintelligibly  to  him- 
self. Waters  seized  upon  this  opportunity  to  be 
affable. 

''Who's  a-cookin'  for  this  layout.  Dad?''  he  said 
pleasantly,  hoping  to  arouse  his  companion  to  a  com- 
fortable familiarity. 

The  old  man  raised  his  head,  and  gazing  blankly 
at  Waters,  as  though  he  saw  through  and  far  beyond 
him,  went  on  muttering  to  himself,  but  in  a  louder 
voice:  "Seven,  fourteen,  twenty-one,  twenty-eight, 
thirty-five,  forty-two,  forty-nine — seven  times  seven 
is  forty-nine." 

"Shouldn't   wonder   at    all,"    answered   Waters, 

115 


ii6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

courageously  endeavoring  to  fit  into  the  scheme  of 
things.  "And  eight  times  eight  is  sixty  with  four  to 
carry.  'Rithmetic's  interestin'.  Who's  manufac- 
turing the  biscuits?" 

The  old  man  continued  muttering  to  himself  for 
a  moment.  Then  with  a  start,  as  though  he  had  just 
wakened,  he  said:    "Oh,  cook?    Diana." 

"Dinah,  eh?"  queried  Waters.  "Colored,  eh? 
Make  good  cooks — them  niggers!"  But  the  old 
man  had  again  lapsed  into  a  deep  study.  As  they 
drew  nearer  to  the  log  house,  the  scent  of  cooking 
breakfast  aroused  the  deep  home  instinct  in  Waters. 
He  saw  before  him  a  most  peaceful  scene  that  wiped 
from  his  mind,  capable  of  the  most  sanguine  optim- 
ism on  the  least  pretext,  all  memory  of  the  horror 
he  had  so  lately  experienced.  The  log  house  stood 
in  the  centre  of  a  vegetable  garden  that  filled  the 
clearing.  It  was  of  ample  size,  built  substantially 
of  heavy  logs  covered  with  moss,  and  its  roof  was 
almost  entirely  covered  with  wild  cucumber  vines, 
now  laden  with  their  snowy  bloom.  "Looks  com- 
fortable like,"  mused  Waters;  "beats  me  if  it  doii't 
look  like  a  woman  was  hoverin'  about  somewheres. 
Looks  too  homelike  for  a  place  'thout  a  woman. 
Wonder  if  it's  the  one  I  seen!"  His  heart  beat 
more  rapidly  at  the  thought.  "No,"  he  mused; 
"never  seen  a  dream  that  could  cook  victuals!" 

As  they  neared  the  open  door,  the  sound  of  a 
voice  carolling  a  wild  sweet  air,  came  out  with  the 
scent  of  cooking.     Waters  had  never  heard  such 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  117 

singing  except  at  the  spring  the  evening  before.  It 
was  to  him  more  like  the  ecstatic  rhapsody  of  a  bird 
threaded  by  the  dull  minor  of  the  wind,  than  the 
songs  with  which  he  was  familiar.  The  voice  sud- 
denly fell  from  its  ecstatic  height  into  a  croon  and 
ceased. 

Following  the  old  man,  who  was  still  muttering 
to  himself,  he  passed  through  the  door.  The  first 
sight  of  the  interior  checked  him.  He  stood  and 
stared.  He  saw,  kneeling  before  a  fireplace  in 
which  something  was  cooking,  the  figure  of  a  young 
woman.  The  glow  of  the  wood  embers  in  the 
fireplace  smote  upward  on  her  face  and  hair.  The 
loose  sleeves  of  her  odd  garment  were  tucked  up, 
displaying  her  arms  bare  to  the  shoulders  and  glow- 
ing with  the  firelight. 

The  sudden  realization  of  what  had  seemed  a 
dream  to  him  thrilled  Waters.  ''She's  real!"  he 
exclaimed.  The  young  woman,  at  the  sound  of  the 
voice,  sprang  up  from  the  fireplace,  and  stood  star- 
ing upon  the  figure  in  the  doorway.  Her  delicate 
face,  with  its  combined  expressions  of  child  and 
woman,  warmed  the  heart  of  Waters.  The  warmth 
permeated  his  whole  body,  and  grew  into  a  softened 
light  upon  his  disfigured  face,  as  he  smiled  the 
haloed  smile  that  had  won  the  heart  of  his  first 
crony.  Immediately  the  puzzled  expression  died 
upon  the  girl's  face.  Her  blue  eyes  softened  as  cold 
skies  soften  with  morning.  During  the  silence  that 
had  fallen,  the  old  man  had  ceased  muttering  and 


ii8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

now  stood  gazing  upon  the  man  and  the  girl.  When 
he  spoke,  his  voice  was  soft  and  lacked  that  nervous 
pitch  which  had  heretofore  characterized  it. 

^'Daughter,"  said  he,  "this  is  the  one  of  whom 
I  have  dreamed  so  long.  He  has  come  out  of  the 
world  to  help  us.  Waters,  this  is  my  daughter, 
Diana." 

Again  Waters  and  the  girl  exchanged  smiles  but 
neither  spoke.  The  old  man  gave  Waters  a  chair, 
and  then  sat  down  at  the  table,  resting  his  chin  upon 
his  hands  and  gazing  into  distance.  Waters  steadily 
followed  the  girl  about  with  his  gaze,  grinning 
pleasantly  whenever  he  caught  her  eyes. 

''Nice  little  thing,"  he  thought.  "Wonder  if 
she's  thinkin'  of  my  bad  eye  and  my  wooden  leg. 
Guess  Dad  won't  need  to  tie  me  down  no  more." 

During  breakfast.  Waters  ate  little,  although  he 
had  been  hungry  a  half  hour  before.  It  sufficed 
him  to  watch  furtively  this  mysterious  dream-girl 
eating  like  an  ordinary  being.  He  was  still  deep  in 
wonder  when  Ambrosen  arose  from  the  table  and 
requested  Waters  to  follow  him. 

They  passed  out  of  the  room,  through  another 
room,  and  into  another  that  Waters  recognized 
as  the  place  from  which  he  had  fled  the  evening  be- 
fore, for  he  saw  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  sloping 
downward  from  the  centre  of  the  room. 

The  old  man  took  a  half  dozen  candles  from  a 
shelf,  and  having  lit  one,  led  the  way  into  the  sub- 
terranean library. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  119 

Waters  shivered  as  he  thought  of  the  experience 
of  the  day  before  in  this  place.  They  stooped 
through  the  aperture  into  the  dark  cavern  beyond. 
The  old  man  walked  on  rapidly,  holding  his  candle 
above  his  head.  Waters  stumped  after,  reluctant 
to  follow,  yet  wishing  to  humor  his  companion. 

"Say,  Dad,"  he  said,  attempting  to  arouse  a  com- 
fortable conversation,  **you've  got  a  nice  little  girl." 
The  old  man  did  not  reply,  but  hurried  on  rapidly. 
"Wonder  where  we're  sailin'  for?"  muttered 
Waters. 

After  walking  rapidly  for  some  time,  the  faint 
white  glow  of  day  crept  in  at  a  chink  in  the  roof  of 
the  cavern.  The  old  man  stopped  and  lit  the  other 
candles  which  he  carried.  These  he  placed  in 
crannies  about  the  wall,  and  in  the  twilight  Waters 
could  distinguish  piles  of  material  ranged  along  the 
jagged  walls;  great  rolls  of  wire,  ranging  In  size 
from  the  E  string  of  a  violin  to  a  small  steel  cable; 
tools  of  all  descriptions ;  strips  of  steel,  nails,  bolts, 
chains.  All  these  Waters  could  distinguish,  with 
many  other  articles  concerning  the  use  of  which  he 
knew  nothing. 

"This  your  junk  shop?"  asked  Waters,  endeavor- 
ing once  more  to  infuse  a  spirit  of  sanity  into  the 
situation. 

The  old  man's  eyes  glowed  in  the  half  light,  as  a 
miser's  might  when  counting  his  gold  pieces. 

"This  is  my  treasure,"  he  said  excitedly.  "It  Is 
of  this  that  we  shall  build  the  colossal  engine  which 


120  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

shall  accomplish  my  great  purpose!  Seel  Here 
it  shall  be  built !  Oh,  you  will  say  it  is  to  be  a  very 
wonderful  engine !  You  will  tremble  when  I  tell  you 
of  it  I  It  will  consist  of  seven  harps,  ranging  from 
the  size  of  a  concert  harp  to  one  twenty  feet  in 
height.  The  first  and  smallest  shall  have  forty-nine 
strings,  the  next  forty-two,  the  next  thirty-five,  and 
so  on,  until  the  last  shall  have  only  seven,  and  they 
shall  be  the  largest  of  all  the  strings  in  the  graduated 
series.    Will  it  not  be  a  terrific  engine? 

''Oh,  but  I  see  you  have  not  yet  caught  the  intri- 
cate meaning  of  my  words.  The  last  group  in  the 
seven  consists  of  seven  strings.  Seven!  Ah,  ha,  ha, 
hal^'  The  old  man  laughed  triumphantly.  "You 
see  I  have  discovered  it — the  great  secret  of  the 
Mystic  Seven!  It  is  the  sustaining  number  of  the 
Universe !  Since  the  Cosmos  emerged  from  Chaos, 
with  all  the  marvels  of  light  and  sound,  this  number 
has  been  dominant!  Seven!  How  many  colors 
exist  in  a  ray  of  sunlight?  Count  them!  Violet, 
indigo,  blue,  green,  yellow,  orange  and  red— ah,  ha  1 
Seven  !'^ 

The  glory  of  childish  triumph  illumined  the  hag- 
gard eyes. 

"And  again — in  all  the  realm  of  sound  with  its 
infinite  variety  of  combinations,  how  many  notes  can 
you  count — notes  of  which  all  sounds  are  but  combi- 
nations? Again  I  ask  you  to  count:  c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a, 
b.    The  final  c  of  the  octave  is  simply  the  former  c 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  121 

pitched  higher.  How  many?  Seven!  Ah,  ha, 
ha,  ha!^' 

The  old  man's  eyebrows  were  drawn  upward  in 
ecstasy  from  the  eyes  that  glared  brilliantly. 

"Not  only  in  the  physical  Universe,  but  in  the  his- 
tory of  Man  the  Mystic  Number  has  been  power- 
ful. It  seems  that  some  faint  conception  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  number  in  the  scheme  of  things  is 
inherent  in  the  human  race.  What  says  the  Chris- 
tian? God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  la- 
bors of  creation!  What  says  Joshua  of  the  fall  of 
Jericho?  'And  seven  priests  shall  bear  before  the 
ark  seven  trumpets  of  ram's  horns;  on  the  seventh 
day  ye  shall  compass  the  city  seven  times  and  the 
priests  shall  blow,  upon  the  trumpets.'  Ah,  even  in 
that  far  time  the  Mystic  Number  was  felt !  Did  not 
Mohammed  dream  of  seven  heavens?  Was  not 
Rome  built  on  seven  hills,  and  did  it  not  dominate 
the  world?  Was  it  not  a  cross  made  by  seven  nails 
in  the  shoe  of  the  cobbler  of  Jerusalem,  that  was  the 
mark  of  the  Christian  Messiah's  curse?  It  was 
after  pondering  these  things  that  I  came  upon  the 
Secret  of  the  Universe. 

"Millions  have  felt  the  spell  of  the  Mystic  Num- 
ber. It  remained  to  me — me — to  be  the  master  of 
the  meaning  of  the  Number  I 

"Listen!  You  will  say  it  is  all  very  wonderful. 
The  philosopher  tells  us  that  all  things  have  their 
tunes;    that  is,  they  are  capable  of  vibrating  to  a 


122  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

certain  sound  and  to  no  other.  It  is  even  so  with  the 
Universe.  Did  not  David  tell  of  how  the  morning 
stars  sang  together?" 

The  old  man's  voice  had  fallen  to  a  low  impres- 
sive tone. 

"The  poets  of  old  dreamed  of  that  which  I  have 
proven  mathematically.  The  Universe  is  sustained 
by  a  certain  tune — a  harmonious  vibration,  rather. 
Produce  a  discord  in  that  tune,  and  you  have  shat- 
tered the  systems!  And  I  have  discovered  the  com- 
bination of  seven  notes  which  alone  can  produce  the 
cosmic  discord!  Ah,  even  now  I  can  feel  my  fingers 
trembling  at  the  mystic  strings  of  the  smaller  harp. 
The  chord  is  caught  up  by  the  next  larger  harp, 
hurled  on  with  ever  increasing  power,  until  the 
seventh  great  harp  of  the  seven  strings  thunders  the 
terrible  sound  1  I  feel  the  earth  totter  like  a  man  in 
his  dotage !  I  see  the  skies  waver  like  an  uncertain 
image  in  a  disturbed  pool!  I  hear  the  rending  of 
the  planets,  the  shrieking  and  hissing  of  satellites 
released  from  their  parent  spheres!  The  deeps 
shiver  with  the  chill  of  returning  Chaos!  Light 
fails!  Star  ashes  shower  into  the  goalless  night! 
Time  dies  and  is  swallowed  by  Eternity!  Dark- 
ness— silence — insentience !" 

The  old  man  had  grown  momentarily  taller  in  his 
ecstasy.  But  immediately  he  became  again  an  old 
man,  stooped,  haggard,  weary-eyed.  When  he 
spoke  again  his  voice  was  weak. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  123 

"O  Waters,  I  have  waited  so  long  for  you.  I 
knew  yoi4  would  come.  I  dreamed  it  so  often. 
And  you  have  come.  You  will  help  me  build  this 
engine — won't  you?  For  my  body  is  but  flesh  and 
old  and  worn  with  too  much  dreaming.  I  have  not 
the  strength  to  hew  out  the  frames  for  the  larger 
harps."  The  old  man's  voice  lost  its  confident  tone 
and  degenerated  into  pitiful  entreaty. 

*'Never  made  a  harp,  Dad,"  said  Waters,  at- 
tempting to  quiet  the  old  man.  "Rather  make  a 
steamboat";  and  he  added  mentally,  "and  get  out'n 
this  cussed  place."  Then  softly,  soothingly,  like  a 
beautiful  dream,  the  memory  of  the  woman  of  the 
spring  came  back. 

"Mebbe  this  old  man  is  just  a  little  bit  cracked," 
he  mused  to  himself.  "He's  been  swallerin'  facts 
so  long  that  he's  got  indygestion  of  the  informa- 
tion. Guess  his  girl's  a  real  girl  all  right.  Mebbe 
I'd  better  make  his  cussed  machine.  I  don't  know 
what  in  thunder  it's  all  about,  though.  Anyhow,  I 
can  get  out'n  here  when  I  can't  stay." 

"Yes,  Dad,"  he  said  aloud;  "I  can  make  your 
moosical  instr'ments,  and  I  will  make  'em.  But 
let's  get  out'n  here  into  the  sun.  I'm  catchin'  my 
death  of  cold."  He  coughed  violently  to  clench  the 
statement. 

The  old  man  snuffed  all  the  candles  except  one. 
When  the  two  had  reached  the  outer  air.  Waters 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 


124  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"If  I  work  six  months  or  so  makin'  your  moosical 
instr'ments,  what  am  I  gettin'  out  of  it?"  he  asked, 
as  they  strolled  out  into  the  afternoon  sunlight. 

"Getting  out  of  it!"  answered  the  old  man;  "Poor 
deluded  human  being!  Why,  is  it  not  enough  to 
know  that  you  shall  aid  in  annihilating  human  suf- 
fering— universal  pain?" 

"If  rd  teach  you  to  laugh,  wouldn^t  you  like  to 
keep  on  livin'.  Dad — and  give  up  the  moosical  busi- 
ness? Didn't  your  ma  ever  tell  you  about  goin'  to 
heaven?  Mebbe  if  I'd  teach  you  to  laugh  you  could 
remember  what  she  said."  The  memory  of  the 
vision  at  the  spring  inclined  Waters  to  optimism. 

"Heaven !  There  is  no  place  in  the  Universe  for 
heaven!"  said  the  old  man.  "And  if  there  were,  I 
would  not  care  to  dwell  there.  I  would  be  too  rest- 
less a  spirit.  Ah,  the  poverty  of  the  conception! 
How  faded  and  cheap  it  is  beside  the  golden  dream 
of  metempsychosis!" 

"Me — what?"  queried  Waters. 

"What  a  precious  privilege  life  would  be,"  con- 
tinued Ambrosen,  "if  space  were  our  ancestral  resi- 
dence !  How  we  would  enjoy  swooping  through  the 
mystery  of  vastness !  How  we  could  lave  and  revel 
in  the  paths  of  day!  Space,  Eternity,  Dark- 
ness— to  be  a  soul  coexistent  with  these !  How  the 
thought  lures  me !  Time !  It  is  so  pitiful  a  thing  in 
its  incompleteness  that  I  wonder  how  any  can  believe 
that  it  ever  crept  into  a  god's  conceptions!" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  125 

The  two  had  reached  the  shore  of  the  island,  and 
they  lay  down  in  the  warm  sand. 

''Waters,"  said  Ambrosen,  "have  you  ever 
dreamed  in  the  sunlight?  I  have  the  most  terrible 
dreams  at  times,  even  in  the  glare  of  the  day.  At 
such  times  I  am  afraid,  and  I  must  hide  myself  in 
the  dark — out  of  the  glare,  where  I  can  see  too 
plainly.  But  at  nights !  Waters,  at  night  I  dream 
so  quietly.  All  is  pastoral  then — green  fields  with 
cattle  lowing  by  clear  brooks,  with  the  drone  of  in- 
visible bugs  threading  the  dull  music  of  the  noon  I 
But  when  I  open  my  eyes  and  feel  the  day  again, 
I  am  afraid  I     The  quiet  night  dreams!     Ah,  they 

prove  to  me  that  I  can  not  be "     The  old  man 

tapped  his  forehead  repeatedly  with  his  fingers,  to 
explain  his  meaning.  Then  he  threw  himself  upon 
his  back  and  sighed.  "I  should  have  been  the  spirit 
of  a  rag  weed,"  he  went  on  irrelevantly;  "how  I 
would  have  drooped  and  sulked  in  the  sun !  How  I 
would  have  loved  to  feel  the  drip  of  the  melancholy 
rain  on  my  face  through  the  sodden  days  and  sullen 
nights,  drinking  from  the  overflowing  chalice  of  the 
skies!" 

"Phew-oO'Oo,"  went  Waters;  and  he  followed 
with  his  gaze  an  imaginary  cloud  of  dust  issuing 
with  his  breath.  "I  should  have  been  a  barrel  full 
of  good  liquor,  a-soakin'  for  a  century  or  more! 
I'm  dry!"  The  liquor  of  the  night  before  had  left 
him  very  arid. 


126  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Ah/'  continued  Ambrosen  in  a  lugubrious  tone; 
"all  the  world  is  thirsty.  We  are  born  thirsty.  But 
it  isn't  water  we  want;   it  isn't  water." 

"Huh  uh,"  agreed  Waters  affably,  thinking  of 
the  cargo  of  good  liquor  he  had  left  behind. 

The  old  man  fell  into  a  silent  mood.  He  was 
dreaming  over  again  his  great  dream,  and  Waters 
was  deep  in  a  soft  reverie,  through  which  the  glow- 
ing woman  of  the  spring  flitted  like  a  melody.  At 
length  the  old  man  sighed  and  arose. 

"To-morrow  we  shall  begin  the  great  task,"  he 
said.     "Come." 


VI 
Concerning  Happiness 

After  the  noon  meal,  which  was  another  feast  of 
wonder  for  Waters,  a  vague  melancholy  seized  him. 
The  old  man  had  gone  muttering  to  his  books,  and 
the  girl  had  disappeared.  Waters  wished  she  had 
not  gone.  Now  that  the  bitterness  of  his  debauch 
on  the  Emilie  had  passed,  he  began  again  to  feel 
the  need  of  human  companionship.  He  went  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave  and  peered  down  into  it.  He  saw 
Ambrosen  bent  over  an  old  volume.  One  candle 
cast  a  sickly  illumination  in  the  dismal  place. 

"Dad!"  cried  Waters.  The  old  man  heard  noth- 
ing. "Come  out'n  your  hole,  Dad;  the  sun*s 
shinin' !"     Still  the  old  man  did  not  hear. 

Waters  went  out  of  the  house.  He  remembered 
the  jug  of  liquor  he  had  left  on  the  shore.  Surely 
he  could  not  have  drunk  it  all.  Why  hadn't  he 
thought  of  it  before?  He  hurried  along  the  wood- 
land path,  cool  in  the  shade  and  fringed  with  flow- 
ers. He  came  to  the  big  spring  and  approached  it 
cautiously,  half  expecting  to  see  the  luminous  body 
of  the  girl  emerging  from  it.  He  knelt  down  beside 
it  and  looked  into  its  clear  depths. 

127 


128  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"That's  you,  Waters,"  he  said,  intently  gazing 
upon  the  reflection  of  his  face.  ^'That's  the  feller 
the  world  kicked  out.  Didn't  need  him.  Took  his 
eye  and  his  leg  first,  though.  Now  look  at  yourself 
careful.  Waters.  Hain't  you  hombly?  You're  an 
ornyment  to  creation — now  hain't  you?  Look  at 
that  eye!  What're  you  good  for,  eh?  Oh,  you're 
sort  of  fillin'  space,  I  guess.  There  was  an  ugly 
hole  in  the  atmosphere,  I  guess,  and  so  they  slung 
you  in  to  fill  it  up  I  There'll  be  a  horrible  rip  in 
the  unyverst  when  you  die;   now  won't  there?" 

He  got  up  from  the  spring  with  a  sigh  and  went 
on  down  the  path,  soon  reaching  the  shore.  He 
found  the  jug  of  liquor  where  he  left  it.  He 
snatched  it  up,  pulled  the  cork,  placed  the  mouth  to 
his  lips.  But  somehow  he  felt  ashamed  and  fal- 
tered. Something  new  had  crept  into  him.  He  put 
the  cork  back  and  beat  it  in  with  his  fist. 

"No,  cussed  if  I  will!"  he  said. 

He  seized  the  jug  by  the  handle,  swung  it  above 
his  head  and  hurled  it  out  into  the  current.  Then 
with  a  sudden  anger,  he  gathered  a  handful  of  small 
stones  and  energetically  bombarded  it  as  it  sped 
away  southward  in  the  muddy  swirl. 

"That's  right!"  he  cried  to  the  jug;  "go  back 
to  the  world,  you  brown  devil,  and  tell  'em  Waters 
sent  you  I" 

He  watched  the  jug  bobbing  and  glinting  in  the 
sunlit  current  until  it  disappeared.  Then  he  took 
his  pipe  and  tobacco  from  his  pocket,  and  hurled 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  129 

both  after  the  jug.  When  these  had  also  disap- 
peared, he  lay  down  upon  his  back  In  the  shade  of  a 
tree,  and  gazed  Into  the  clear  blue  of  the  afternoon 
sky. 

"Well,'*  said  he  to  the  universe  In  general;  "me 
and  the  World  Is  parted!  World  kicked  Waters 
out  and  then  Waters  kicked  the  World  out.  No 
hard  f eelln's ;  suits  both  of  us.  Nice  place  up  here ! 
Squirrels  and  bugs  and  butterflies  and  hummin'  birds 
and  plenty  of  blue  sky.  A  feller  wasn't  made  to  be 
such  a  nice  wise  animal  as  he  tries  to  be,  I  guess. 
Made  to  run  wild  In  the  woods  and  sleep  In  the 
sun  and  gnaw  roots  for  a  llvin'.  That's  what  he 
was  made  for!  Get  big  tough  muscles  on  him  and 
growl  at  t'other  animals  that  tries  to  steal  his  grub ! 
Not  know  no  more  about  dyin'  than  a  tree  does! 
Just  growin'  and  enjoyin'  hisself  and  hollerin'  for 
joy  at  the  sunrise  when  It's  pretty!  I  guess  folks 
begun  havin'  trouble  when  they  learnt  how  to  build 
towns,  and  got  to  sayin'  'This  land  Is  mine  and  that's 
your'n,  if  you  can  keep  me  from  gettin'  It;  and  don't 
you  come  a-nigh  mine!'  Now  me  and  the  old  man 
and  the  girl  and  the  squirrels  and  the  bugs  and  the 
hummin'  birds  has  got  the  title  to  this  here  end  of 
the  unyverst,  I  guess.  God,  He  made  the  sky  for  a 
tent  for  the  whole  tribe,  and  He  fixed  it  up  fine  for 
'em;  but  they  got  selfish  and  went  to  buildin'  little 
houses  for  themselves." 

He  mused  for  some  time,  drawing  in  great 
breaths  of  the  Summer  air.     He  heard  the  dull 


130  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

crooning  of  the  leaves,  the  rapid  beating  of  a  wood- 
pecker, the  frisking  of  squirrels  above  his  head,  and 
the  whir  of  eager  wings  cleaving  the  cool  shade. 

"Old  man  wants  to  be  God,  eh?  I  guess  if  he'd 
crawl  out'n  his  hole  and  look  about  careful,  things 
wouldn't  seem  so  bad.  He's  settin'  down  there  in 
that  hole,  a-lookin'  at  what  men  done,  by  the  light 
of  a  candle  that  stinks  and  gets  blue  in  the  face 
a-tryin'  to  shove  the  damp  dark  back;  and  I'm  lol- 
lin'  out  here  a-lookin'  at  what  God  done,  with  the 
yeller  day  a-lightin'  it  all  up  for  me,  and  laughin'  all 
over  'cause  it's  so  easy  to  shove  the  night  away  I 
Wonder  if  I  hain't  nearer  right  than  him." 

Waters  sighed  a  deep  sigh  of  contentment,  and 
rolled  over  on  his  side,  the  better  to  look  about  him. 

"Oh,  this  is  the  place  for  me,  I  guess,"  he  con- 
tinued. "I'm  too  cussed  hombly  to  knock  about 
among  folks."  As  he  spoke,  his  gaze  fell  upon  an 
ancient  oak  growing  out  of  the  bank  and  overhang- 
ing the  river.  It  was  gnarled,  and  had  been  dis- 
figured by  a  stroke  of  lightning.  "But  look  at  that 
tree.  Waters!  Now,  I  reckon  that's  as  hombly  for 
a  tree  as  you  are  for  a  man.  Been  lambasted  fright- 
ful I  But  look  how  it  goes  on  a-reachin'  up  towards 
the  sun  and  the  blue  sky.  Don't  seem  to  know  or 
care  about  bein'  hombly.  Hain't  complainin'  none. 
Just  makin'  a  cool  shade  for  all  it's  worth.  Hain't 
worryin'  about  livin'  or  dyin'  or  what  the  other  trees 
is  thinkin'  about  it.  Now,  if  it  was  cut  down,  them 
flowers   and   ferns   and  birds   and  squirrels  would 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  131 

miss  it,  I  reckon.  When  the  wind  or  lightnin'  comes 
along  and  lops  off  a  limb,  it  goes  right  on  reachin* 
up.    Guess  it  ain't  so  much  what  a  feller  looks  like." 

Waters'  flow  of  optimistic  thought  made  him 
eminently  satisfied.  He  breathed  deep  breaths  and 
cast  about  him  for  more  food  for  pleasant  reflection. 

*'Oh,  there's  all  kinds  of  hints  for  a  feller,  I 
guess.  They  ain't  all  in  the  script'res.  Now,  I 
reckon  that  there  oak  is  nigh  onto  four  hundred 
years  old.  Say !  the  way  them  leaves  is  clappin'  their 
hands  up  there  in  the  sunlight,  you'd  think  it  was  a 
saplin' !  Seen  a  lot  of  hard  Winters  and  storms  and 
floods,  too.  Fergot  'em  all,  and  keeps  on  lookin' 
for  the  sun.  So  old  it's  got  wens  and  warts  all  over 
its  hide;  but  I'll  bet  its  heart  is  as  full  of  sweet 
juice  as  a  saplin'.  Oh,  I  guess  there's  plenty  of 
hints  for  a  feller  I" 

He  got  up,  stretched  himself  with  a  deep  sense  of 
the  joy  of  living,  in  spite  of  his  late  pessimism,  and 
re-entered  the  woods.  He  came  again  to  the  big 
spring,  and  lay  down  on  the  ferns,  looking  into  the 
crystal  depths. 

"Well,  you  are  hombly.  Waters;  that's  sure.  So's 
that  tree.  Now  look  at  that  spring.  Keeps  a  pictur' 
of  the  sky  next  to  its  heart.  I  put  my  hand  into  it 
and  rile  it  up  and  spoil  its  pictur',  and  it  goes  right 
on  makin'  another  pictur'.  Don't  lie  to  nobody, 
neither.  Shows  them  just  what  they  look  like,  and 
says:  'There's  you  as  hombly  as  you  are — and 
here's  me  keepin'  the  sky  next  to  my  heart.'    So  full 


132  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

of  clear  pure  stuff  that  It  runs  over  and  don^t  keep 
none  of  it.  Gives  everything  it's  got  to  make  the 
world  greener.  Look  at  them  ferns  leanin'  over  to 
kiss  it!" 

He  put  his  lips  to  the  surface  and  drank  a  deep 
draught.  As  he  gazed  into  the  clear  water,  sud- 
denly a  beautiful  face  grew  up  from  the  depths.  It 
was  framed  in  a  mass  of  hanging  gold.  It  seemed 
the  picture  of  the  spirit  of  the  spring,  calm  and  sweet 
and  pure.  As  he  looked,  the  face  seemed  slowly 
rising  toward  his  face,  until  its  cheeks  almost 
touched  his  cheek.  He  heard  the  faint  rustle  of  a 
garment.  He  raised  his  head,  looked  behind  him, 
and  saw  the  girl. 

'  Wy — uh — howdy  —  do  —  uh  —  Miss  Dinah  1" 
stammered  Waters,  getting  clumsily  to  his  feet. 
"IVe  been  a-lookin'  at  your  spring.  Nice  spring. 
It's  yours,  ain't  It?" 

"It's  yours,  too,"  answered  the  girl,  smiling.  "It 
belongs  to  all  of  us — you  and  me  and  everything  that 
gets  thirsty.  Where  did  you  come  from?  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me  about  the  place  you  came  from. 
It  must  be  so  strange  and  wonderful!  Come,"  she 
said,  extending  her  slender  sun-browned  hand  to 
Waters  with  a  childish  artlessness,  as  though  she 
had  known  him  always.  She  seemed  so  much  the 
child  and  so  little  the  woman,  that  Waters  felt  no 
more  abashed  now  than  if  a  butterfly  had  beckoned 
him  to  follow.  He  took  the  delicate  hand,  and  they 
were  off ;   she  tripping  along  lightly  at  a  rapid  pace, 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  133 

and  he  following  with  a  hop  and  a  skip  as  best  he 
could  with  his  wooden  leg.  At  length  the  girl 
stopped  beneath  an  overhanging  maple  where  the 
ground  was  carpeted  with  cool  mosses  and  ferns. 

*'Now  let's  sit  down  here  and  talk,"  said  the  girl; 
and  she  lay  down  in  front  of  Waters,  resting  her 
chin  in  her  hands  and  gazing  upon  him  with  large 
blue  eyes.  'Tm  so  glad  you  came.  You  are  never 
going  away,  are  you?" 

"Huh  uh,"  said  Waters,  leaning  his  back  against 
the  tree  and  drinking  in  the  fair  picture  before  him 
— the  delicate  face,  brown-tinted  with  the  sun  and 
wind,  and  framed  in  masses  of  luminous  hair;  the 
shapely  bronzed  arms,  slender  but  strong;  the  per- 
fect slope  of  the  body  downward  from  the  shoul- 
ders; the  bare  feet  among  the  ferns. 

*'Is  the  world  very  big?"  asked  the  girl. 

"Tol'able  big,"  answered  Waters,  still  too  intent 
upon  the  picture  before  him  to  talk  freely, 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  the  girl.  "It  must  be 
very  beautiful  and  happy,  too." 

"Well,"  said  Waters,  sighing,  "some  of  it's 
b'utiful  and  some  of  it  ain't;  some  of  it's  happy  and 
some  of  it  ain't.  But  I  do  think  it  was  made  b'utiful 
and  happy  clean  through,  but  some  folks  won't  leave 
it  be  that  way.  I  spoiled  some  of  it  myself.  But  I 
didn't  go  to  do  it,  really.  Don't  guess  the  other 
folks  really  go  to  do  it.  They  kind  of  get  onto  the 
wrong  tack.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  it's  because  they 
get  too  fur  away  from  the  woods  and  the  wind  and 


134  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  birds  and  them  kind  of  things.  You  take  any 
animal  and  put  him  in  a  cage  and  he'll  get  mean. 
But  it'll  all  come  around  all  right,  I  guess." 

The  girl's  eyes  grew  large  with  wonder,  as  Wat- 
ers warmed  up  to  his  subject  and  launched  forth  into 
a  story  of  the  world  as  he  had  seen  it;  a  very  little, 
lopsided  world  it  was — the  world  of  one  man,  dis- 
torted with  the  little  joys  and  sorrows  of  one  man, 
but  lit  with  the  sunlight  of  his  optimism. 

"And  haven't  you  always  been  happy?"  asked  the 
girl,  with  the  light  of  sympathy  in  her  eyes.  "Oh, 
you  will  be  very  happy  here,  won't  you?" 

With  sudden  tenderness.  Waters  took  one  of  her 
hands  in  his,  and  patted  it  softly  as  he  would  have 
done  with  a  child. 

"Yes,  little  girl,"  he  said;    "yes,  yes." 

"Because  I'll  show  you  all  the  wonderful  things 
here.  I  know  where  there  are  many  nests  with  birds 
in  them.  And  I  know  where  the  squirrels  live,  too. 
Then  you'll  be  very  happy,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  yes,  little  girl,"  said  Waters. 

A  horizontal  beam  of  light  shot  through  the 
leaves.  The  long  droning  afternoon  had  passed  like 
a  flash  of  golden  light. 

"Oh I"  cried  the  girl.  "It  is  almost  sunset! 
Hurry!  I  will  show  you  the  sunset!"  Again  she 
reached  her  hand  to  Waters,  and  led  him  rapidly 
among  the  trees  to  a  place  where  the  island  rose 
westward  into  a  bluff.  With  eager  haste  she  led  her 
hopping,   skipping  companion  up  the  steep  incline 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  135 

among  the  scrub  oaks,  until,  reaching  the  summit,  all 
the  glorious  sun-bathed  land,  like  a  revelation,  lay 
beneath  them,  stretching  away  in  quiet  majesty  to 
the  rim  of  sky.  The  sun,  a  dull  red  disc,  was  sinking 
in  a  mass  of  glowing  cloud  piled  along  the  horizon. 
Suddenly  it  dipped  beneath  the  surface,  and  many 
shafts  of  varicolored  light  leaped  upward  half  way 
to  the  zenith,  and  faded  in  the  deep  quiet  blue. 

"Oh,  sing!  sing!"  cried  the  girl  in  ecstacy;  and 
her  clear  voice  arose  in  the  song  of  her  own  making, 
that  had  grown  up  out  of  her  heart  as  the  song  of 
a  bird  grows.  It  was  the  song  Waters  had  heard 
her  singing  in  the  spj*ing.  The  streamers  of  light 
slowly  faded;  the  fired  clouds  burned  into  gray 
ashes,  and  the  dun  evening  lingered  in  the  West. 

"There,  it  is  gone,"  said  the  girl.  "But  aren't 
you  glad  it  will  come  back  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  little  girl,"  said  Waters;   "I  am  now." 

Hand  in  hand,  like  two  happy  children,  they  de- 
scended the  steep  hillside. 


VII 

The  Second  Notch 

That  night  Waters  thought  long  about  the  beau- 
tiful day  that  had  just  passed.  A  faint  night  wind 
came  in  at  the  open  window  with  the  moonlight, 
bearing  the  odor  of  the  woods  to  his  nostrils.  It 
seemed  that  the  spirit  of  the  quiet  night  was  calling 
him  out  into  the  open  air.  He  got  up  quietly,  dressed 
and  went  out. 

How  changed  the  world  was!  How  strong  it 
was,  yet  how  kind  and  gentle  I  The  drowsy  wind 
made  a  lullaby  in  the  leaves,  and  there  was  the  shrill 
small  chorus  of  night  bugs,  glad  to  be  a  part  of  the 
beautiful  plan.  How  quiet  and  brilliant  the  stars 
were  I  How  magnificently  the  moon  swung  west- 
ward I  The  world  had  become  a  holy  place.  Never 
before  had  Waters  realized  so  fully  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  temple  of  the  great  outdoors. 

He  walked  on  slowly  through  the  woods,  until  he 
came  to  the  river,  now  a  stream  of  living  silver. 
"Oh,  it's  a  great  plan  youVe  got  for  things!"  said 
Waters,  as  though  speaking  to  some  great  Ear  latent 
in  the  beauty  about  him.     "And  Fm  part  of  it,  too, 

136 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  137 

ain^t  I?  Feller'd  ought  to  be  proud  of  that!  I've 
been  a  black  speck  on  it  all  in  my  time,  though.  And 
still  it  seems  I  can  hear  you  sayin' :  'Fill  up  your 
ears  and  your  eyes  with  it  I  It's  your'n,  and  I  think 
you'll  like  it  I"» 

He  lay  down  and  placed  his  face  close  to  the 
Earth,  and  extended  his  arms  as  if  to  pull  himself 
closer  to  the  great  warm  breast.  He  did  not  know 
that  this  was  prayer;  but  a  great  peace  came  over 
him. 

Suddenly  a  hoarse  shout  rang  out  in  the  woods. 
"Waters  I  Waters  I"  It  was  the  voice  of  the  old 
man.  Waters  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  cry,  and 
soon  Ambrosen  emerged  from  the  shadows. 

"Oh,  you  have  not  gone!"  gasped  the  old  man. 
"You  have  stayed  to  help  me !  I  dreamed  just  now 
— that  you  went  away — and  the  great  scheme  failed  I 
I  heard  the  stars  laughing — at  me  I  Their  laughter 
was  loud  as  thunder  and  maddened  me  I  I  awoke 
and  you  were  gone  I" 

He  threw  his  arms  about  Waters'  neck.  "Ah," 
he  whispered;  "what  if  I  should  be  only  a  man  after 
all — only  a  man  I" 

As  they  returned  to  the  log  house,  a  great  kind- 
ness grew  in  Waters.  He  no  longer  felt  any  terror 
at  the  memory  of  his  past  experiences.  He  felt  the 
desire  to  protect  this  old  man  who  walked  beside 
him,  holding  his  hand  like  a  timid  child. 

When  they  had  reached  the  house.  Waters  care- 
fully arranged  the  bed  for  the  old  man  to  lie  upon. 


138  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Sorry  I  made  you  worry,  Dad,"  said  Waters; 
**but  don't  you  be  afeerd.  Dad.  I  hain't  a-goin'  to 
leave  you.  And  to-morrow  I'm  goin'  to  begin  to 
make  your  moosical  instr'ments.  You  just  lay  down 
and  sleep.     There — that's  right." 

The  old  man  lay  down,  looking  up  appealingly  at 
Waters.     "You  will  stay,  Waters?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  Dad,  you  can  hold  my  hand.  There,  now 
can  you  go  to  sleep?" 

The  old  man  closed  his  eyes  like  a  weary  trust- 
ing child.  His  eyelids  twitched  nervously.  Waters 
stroked  the  seamed  forehead  with  a  hand  grown 
gentle  as  a  woman's.  "You  hain't  goin'  to  dream 
bad  no  more.  Dad.  'Cause  you  know,  things'll  come 
out  all  right;  they  will." 

In  a  short  while  the  old  man  was  asleep.  A 
cloud-rift  sent  a  ray  of  light  through  the  window  of 
the  room  and  smote  the  face  of  the  sleeper.  Wat- 
ers leaned  over  the  illumined  face,  like  a  mother 
watching  the  sleep  of  her  sick  child.  The  face  was 
a  palimpsest — an  old  dry  bit  of  parchment,  upon 
which  some  master-hand  had  left  unfinished  a  brave 
tale  of  grace  and  beauty,  to  be  rendered  scarcely 
legible  by  the  scrawl  of  a  ruthless  heavier  hand.  It 
was  Schopenhauer  written  over  Homer. 

As  Waters  looked  upon  the  face,  unquiet  even  in 
slumber,  a  great  pity  grew  in  his  heart.  "Pore  old 
man!"  he  muttered.  "You've  got  'em,  pore  old 
man!  But  I'm  a-goin'  to  be  good  to  you.  I  can't 
tell  just  what  you  want  to  get  about;  but  you  hain't 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  139 

never  goin'  to  get  about  it,  I  know.  You'll  just  keep 
a-wantin'  and  wantin'  and  wantin',  and  havin'  them 
fits  'cause  you  can't  get  what  you  want;  and  then, 
some  day,  you'll  kick  the  bucket;  and  I  reckon  then 
you  won't  want  nothin'  no  more,  and  won't  have  no 
more  fits,  pore  old  man." 

He  gently  loosed  his  hand  from  the  old  man's 
grasp,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  palms.  The  re- 
turning memory  of  the  luminous  girl  filled  his 
brain  with  a  great  soft  light.  Manlike,  he  began  to 
plan  happiness.  Maybe  sometime,  far  off,  he  would 
marry  her.  Then  he  would  build  a  larger 
log  house  for  the  girl  and  Dad  and  himself,  and  they 
would  be  very  happy.  Why,  what  else  would  he 
need?  He  would  have  her  and  the  old  man,  and  he 
could  raise  enough  to  eat.  What  else  would  he 
want?  And  maybe — afterwhile — well — maybe 
afterwhile — had  not  other  men  been  fathers? 

**She  didn't  say  nothin'  about  my  leg  or  my  eye," 
he  mused.  ''She  didn't  say  a  word!"  And  with  a 
sudden  inspiration,  Waters  searched  in  his  pocket 
for  his  jack  knife.  Then,  with  infinite  care,  he 
carved  a  second  notch  on  his  wooden  leg. 


VIII 

The  King  of  the  Island 

The  next  morning,  Waters  was  wakened  early  by 
the  old  man  shaking  him  and  speaking  in  his  ear. 
*'Come  I  The  great  day  is  beginning  to  dawn !  Let 
us  not  waste  a  minute.  Twenty  years  have  passed, 
and  now  at  last  I  am  beginning  to  realize  my  dream. 
Gomel  It  is  dangerous  to  let  the  minutes  pass; 
they  breed  years — and  I  am  getting  old!" 

Waters  rolled  out  of  bed,  yawning,  still  feeling 
in  his  drowsy  veins  the  glory  of  a  dream.  He 
dressed  hurriedly,  and  they  went  out  into  the  kitchen, 
where  breakfast  had  already  been  prepared  by  the 
old  man.  Ambrosen  ate  nervously,  and  Waters 
with  that  good  appetite  which  is  at  least  the  com- 
panion, if  not  the  parent  of  optimism.  When  they 
had  finished  eating,  the  old  man  brought  out  an  axe 
from  another  room  where  he  kept  a  variety  of  tools, 
and  they  went  into  the  timber,  cool  in  the  twilight  of 
the  earliest  hour  of  dawn. 

As  Waters  walked  along  beside  the  old  man, 
breathing  in  the  odor  of  the  dew-steeped  green 
things,   his   heart  swelled.      *'0h.    Dad,''   said   he, 

140 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  141 

**can't  you  see  that  it  ain't  all  bad?  Can't  you  see 
somehow,  that  it's  all  sweet  and  pure?  Just  stop 
and  smell  and  look  around.  Hain't  it  a  fine  piece  of 
work?  W'y,  look  here  at  this  drop  of  dew!  Cool 
and  pure,  and  it's  got  a  pictur'  of  the  sky  in  it  I 

"Listen!  Things  is  beginnin'  to  wake  up.  Hear 
them  birds  and  them  bugs  and  them  frogs !  Ain't 
they  glad  about  the  sun  a-comin'  back?  All  of  'em 
a-singin',  singin',  singin',  and  us  fellers  what's  a  lot 
smarter,  we  ain't  a-singin'.  Oh,  Dad,  we'd  ought  to 
be  a-singin'.  Look!  Listen!  Things  is  beginnin' 
to  happen  all  over!  Sun's  wakin'  up  and  rubbin' 
his  eyes  and  yawnin'  and  throwin'  his  big  strong  pink 
legs  out  of  bed,  and  shakin'  the  kinks  out  of  his  long 
flamin'  hair !  The  whole  world  is  stretchin'  its  neck 
to  get  first  sight  of  his  grinnin'  face!" 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  his  face  softened. 

**Yes,  yes.  Waters,  I  see,  I  see.  I  remember, 
when  I  was  a  boy,  I  could  feel  all  this  as  you  feel  it 
now.  But  something — came — over  me."  He 
stopped  and  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  as 
though  in  perplexity.  "Something — came — over — - 
me,"  he  repeated  falteringly.  Then  he  straightened 
his  body  and  his  face  darkened.  "Come !"  he  cried. 
"The  minutes  are  passing.  They  breed  years — 
failure!" 

They  hurried  on  until  they  came  near  the  end  of 
the  island,  where  upon  their  right  hand  lay  the 
turbulent  river  dwindling  into  the  South,  and  before 
them  the  green  hills  with  the  first  light  of  day  upon 


142  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

them.  Every  moment,  as  they  stood,  Increased  the 
wonder  in  the  East.  A  line  of  dull  light  lay  along 
the-  jagged  sky  rim.  Slowly  a  yellow  blur  grew  up 
from  the  horizon,  like  the  glow  of  a  burning  straw 
stack  a  half  day's  journey  over  the  hills. 

''Dad,''  said  Waters;  "if  we'd  bust  it  all  up,  do 
you  reckon  we  could  make  somethin'  better?  I 
reckon  I  can't  help  you  none  on  that  end  of  the  job. 
Let's  throw  the  axe  away  and  go  and  waller  in  the 
sand  and  laugh  and  talk  about  how  nice  things  is  I" 

The  old  man  stood  staring  into  the  growing  won- 
der of  the  East  and  did  not  answer.  His  face  bore 
the  stern  expression  of  a  general  watching  the  steady 
advance  of  the  foe.  Suddenly  the  yellow  blur  of 
light  brightened  and  became  agitated.  Then  a  dozen 
flaming  rockets  shot  upward,  igniting  the  clouds  of 
fleece  that  floated  in  the  pink-shot  blue.  The  East 
became  a  riot  of  colored  flame ;  and  then  suddenly, 
like  a  king  heralded  by  a  costly  illumination,  the  sun 
heaved  his  glowing  head  above  the  hills,  and  took 
the  steep  way  to  the  starless  zenith. 

Waters,  staring  in  rapture,  heard  a  guttural  ex- 
clamation from  the  old  man.  He  turned,  and  saw  a 
face  gloomy  and  malevolent.  Ambrosen  shook  his 
clenched  fist  at  the  mounting  sun.  "Boaster!"  he 
muttered.  Then,  turning  to  his  companion,  with  all 
the  sinister  strength  in  his  face,  which  had  terrified 
Waters  at  first,  he  said,  pointing  out  a  tall  straight 
hickory:  "There,  that  is  the  first.  Cut  it  down. 
It  will  do  for  the  largest  harp."    And  Waters  fell 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  143 

to  work,  swinging  his  axe  merrily  in  the  morning 
sunlight. 

'Tore  old  man,"  he  thought,  as  he  plied  the  axe 
and  whistled  a  slow  soft  air.  "He  ain't  right;  but 
I  reckon  he  won't  live  long.  And  I'll  humor  him. 
Work  don't  hurt  me  none,  and  he'll  feel  better  when 
he  thinks  things  is  workin'  out  for  him.  And  then, 
we  can  use  the  trees  for  wood  when  the  Winter 
comes.     Pore  old  man." 

When  the  first  tree  crashed  upon  the  ground,  the 
old  man  became  ecstatic.  "Ah!"  he  cried.  "It  is 
the  great  event  of  Time;  for  is  it  not  the  first  stroke 
of  the  death-knell  of  Time  ?  What  were  all  the  puny 
wars  of  the  Titan  brood  compared  with  the  subtle 
attack  we  have  begun  to-day?  Waters,  you  have 
driven  that  axe  through  the  body  of  a  tree.  Only  a 
tree?  No!"  The  old  man  straightened  his  body 
like  a  bow  that  has  launched  its  arrow.  "You  have 
cut  a  root  of  Ygdrasil — the  Tree  of  the  Universe!" 

Waters  worked  all  day,  thinking  of  the  old  man 
and  the  girl  and  the  island,  and  of  the  sweet  new 
influence  that  had  come  into  his  life.  The  soft  low 
air  that  he  whistled  almost  continually  to  the  time  of 
his  vigorously  wielded  axe,  was  the  one  Specks  had 
heard  him  whistle  that  day  up  the  river,  when  he 
had  carved  the  first  notch  in  his  wooden  leg.  To- 
ward evening  he  stopped,  and  turned  to  the  old  man 
who  was  sitting  near  by  upon  a  fallen  tree,  eagerly 
watching  the  progress  of  the  work. 

"Phew-00-00,"  he  went,  mopping  his  face;   "nice 


144  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

and  cool  in  the  shade.  Say,  Dad,  I've  been  thinkin' 
some  about  your  big  scheme.  And  I've  been  thinkin' 
that  we'll  have  to  let  these  logs  lay  till  Fall  before 
we  use  'em.  They  won't  work  up  good  when  they're 
green." 

'*More  wasted  time,"  muttered  the  old  man. 

"No,  'tain't  wasted,  Dad.  If  I  didn't  care  about 
your  scheme,  I'd  say,  put  'em  in  green.  Then  there's 
another  thing.  Have  you  got  a  block  and  tackle? 
You  see,  these  timbers  '11  be  heavy,  and  we'll  need 
somethin'  to  handle  'em  with." 

The  old  man's  face  darkened.  "No,"  he  said, 
"I  have  none.    Oh,  the  whole  scheme  will  fail." 

"No,  it  won't  either,"  said  Waters,  "  'cause  I've 
got  a  plan  for  gettin'  'em.  You  know  lots  of  boats 
passes  here  goin'  to  Benton,  and  I  thought  mebbe  I 
could  sell  'em  wood  and  get  what  we  need  for  our 
business." 

"Have  them  stop  here !"  cried  the  old  man.  "No ! 
They  will  discover  my  scheme  and  it  will  fail!" 

"Well,  if  you'll  leave  it  to  me,  it'll  be  all  right; 
and  we'll  have  a  block  and  tackle.  If  you  don't,  we 
can't  handle  the  timbers.     Better  let  me.  Dad." 

After  a  long  silence,  the  old  man  sighed  wearily, 
and  said:     "I'll  leave  it  to  you.  Waters." 

"That's  right.  Dad,"  said  Waters;  "so  I'll  finish 
cuttin'  down  the  timbers  and  then  I'll  go  at  the  cord 
wood." 

So  it  happened  that  Waters  again  began  listening 
for  the  sound  of  an  approaching  steamer,  and  peer- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  145 

ing  up  the  river  for  a  trail  of  smoke.  But  this  time 
it  was  not  with  the  same  longing  as  in  the  bitter- 
sweet Calhoun  days. 

One  day  a  week  later,  Waters  heard  the  sound 
for  which  he  had  been  listening.  He  rushed  down  to 
the  shore,  and  as  the  boat  came  in  sight,  he  began 
signalling  for  her  to  put  in.  In  those  days,  the  sight 
of  a  man  signalling  in  the  wilderness  was  so  rare 
that  the  boat  immediately  changed  her  course  and 
swung  in  to  the  island.  It  was  the  John  H.  Lucas. 
The  captain  stood  at  the  bow,  smiling  broadly. 

"Well,"  said  the  captain,  "weVe  been  looking 
for  this.  Met  the  Emilie  up  stream.  So  you're  Mr. 
Waters,  eh?  Been  sobering  up  some?  Jump  aboard 
and  we'll  take  you  as  far  as  Sioux  City  anyway." 

Waters'  face  reddened  with  the  memory  of  the 
debauch  that  now  seemed  ancient  history  to  him. 
"I  don't  want  to  go  back,  cap'n,"  he  replied.  "I'm 
livin'  here  now;  sort  of  squatted  on  the  island.  I'm 
king  here,  and  I  wasn't  nothin'  down  there;  so  I'm 
goin'  to  stay.  You  can  tell  the  cap'n  of  the  Emilie 
that  I'm  glad  he  kicked  me  off." 

The  captain  grinned  broadly.  "Pretty  good  place 
to  swear  off,  eh?    Well,  why  did  you  stop  us?" 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  Waters,  "I'm  settin'  up 
in  business.  Goin'  to  run  a  woodin'  station. 
Woodin'  stations  is  scarce  hereabouts,  I  guess.  You 
can  tell  some  of  the  others  that  goes  to  Benton." 

The  captain  ceased  grinning  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  earnest  face  of  the  castaway.     In  those  days, 


146  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

when  the  boats  of  the  upper  river  were  obliged  to 
burn  wood,  much  delay  was  occasioned  by  'Vood- 
ing  up."  It  was  necessary  that  the  boats  tie  up  and 
turn  out  all  hands  to  get  fuel  for  the  furnaces.  The 
captain  of  the  Lucas  became  more  affable.  "We  will 
return  to  Benton  in  the  Fall,"  said  he.  "What  can 
we  bring  up  for  you,  Mr.  Waters?" 

Waters  began  to  rack  his  brain  for  a  list  of  ne- 
cessities, that  began  with  a  block  and  tackle,  and  in- 
cluded not  only  Winter  garments  and  shoes  for  two 
men,  but,  to  the  surprise  of  the  captain  and  all  who 
listened,  both  Summer  and  Winter  garments  for  a 
woman. 

"Woman  in  the  case,  eh?"  queried  the  captain 
jovially.  "And  you're  swearing  off  ?  Sure  sign,  Mr. 
Waters,  sure  sign!  Shall  I  congratulate  you?  We'll 
probably  be  bringing  up  an  Indian  Missionary  in  the 
Fall,  and  we'll  have  him  do  the  knot  tight  for  you!" 
And  the  captain  laughed  heartily  at  his  own  good- 
humored  sally. 

"  'Tain't  that  way,"  said  Waters,  grinning  pleas- 
antly, "—yet." 

"Oh,  not  yet!"  laughed  the  captain.  "Well,  you 
want  to  have  things  all  ready  when  the  Missionary 
gets  here!'* 

The  captain  took  a  list  of  the  articles  desired,  and 
Waters  gave  the  necessary  measurements,  as  best 
he  could,  for  the  garments  ordered.  When  he  fin- 
ished the  list,  he  thought  of  sending  a  line  to  Specks. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  147 

He  asked  the  captain  for  a  pencil  and  paper,  and 
hastily  scribbled  this  note: 

*'Dear  Crony:  I'm  up  here  at  Old  Man's  Is- 
land. Nice  place.  Can't  you  come  up?  Tell  your 
ma  I  ain't  forgot  how  kind  she  was. 

"Your  Crony, 

"Waters.'' 
*T.  S.     I'm  King  of  this  Island.     Don't  never 
drink  none." 

This  he  gave  to  the  captain,  who  promised  to  de- 
liver it  to  the  post  office  at  Calhoun.  The  Lucas 
pulled  away,  and  Waters,  thinking  of  the  suggestion 
of  the  captain,  watched  the  boat  growing  smaller  un- 
til it  had  disappeared  down  river. 

"Wisht  it  could  be  that  way,"  he  mused. 


IX 

The  Awakening 

When  Waters  had  finished  cutting  the  timbers 
for  the  harp  frames,  he  launched  forth  into  his  own 
scheme — that  of  furnishing  passing  boats  with  wood. 
As  it  would  be  necessary  to  let  the  timbers  lie  until 
Winter,  he  had  the  Summer  before  him  to  be  spent 
in  useful  toil. 

Already  he  had  begun  to  make  vague  but  pleasant 
plans  for  the  future.  It  might  be  that  he  would  not 
always  live  on  the  island.  It  might  be  that  he  would 
go  back  to  the  world,  bearing  with  him  the  new  light 
that  had  come  to  him  in  the  wilderness.  He  might 
not  go  back  alone,  and  in  that  case,  he  would  need 
money  with  which  to  begin  life  again.  He  often 
figured  how  much  he  could  make  in  a  year,  and  al- 
ready bore  about  him  that  prosperous  air  of  a  man 
who  is  conscious  of  filling  his  niche  in  the  world. 

So  he  went  on  chopping  and  splitting  and  sawing 
and  piling  the  wood  upon  the  shore,  whistling  mer- 
rily the  while.  And  all  the  while,  the  girl  hovered 
about  him  like  a  butterfly,  talking  to  him  about  the 
wonders  of  the  great  world,  singing  to  him  in  her 

148 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  149 

wild  way,  and  laughing  merrily  like  a  playful  little 
girl.  And  often  when  Waters  would  sit  down  to 
rest,  she  would  sit  beside  him  and  he  would  repeat 
to  her  songs  that  he  had  known  of  old;  songs  of  the 
sea,  rollicking  and  noisy  as  the  sea;  simple  songs 
with  old-fashioned  melodies.  They  were  the  songs 
that  had  long  been  buried  under  the  darkness  of  his 
life,  and  now  when  the  darkness  had  passed,  blos- 
somed forth  in  the  sunlight  of  his  new  life.  And 
when  she  would  sing  them  to  him  with  her  full  rich 
voice,  in  a  winsome,  artless  manner,  Waters  would 
stop  working,  leaning  upon  his  axe,  while  a  new 
warmth  crept  into  his  breast,  and  a  mist  passed  be- 
fore him,  in  which  he  saw  pleasant  visions. 

Day  by  day  as  he  watched  her  playing  about  him, 
already  a  mature  physical  woman,  but  as  yet  only  a 
little  girl  in  soul,  Waters'  love  for  her  grew.  He 
had  never  loved  in  just  this  way  before.  She  seemed 
to  him  rather  a  young  daughter  whom  he  was  happy 
in  protecting.  It  is  said  that  some  men  are  born  to 
be  fathers;   it  was  so  with  Waters. 

And  yet — why  did  his  heart  beat  so  loudly  when 
she  took  his  big  sunburned  hand  in  her  thin  hands, 
and  said  that  it  was  very  strong  and  that  he  was  a 
very  good  great  man?  Often  at  such  times  he  felt  a 
great  desire  to  seize  her  and  kiss  her  as  he  had  never 
yet  kissed  a  woman;  but  as  he  looked  upon  the  in- 
nocent childhood  of  her  face,  he  muttered  to  him- 
self: "Only  a  little  butterfly  a-playin'  in  the  sun!" 
Then  he  would  sigh  and  go  on  with  his  work. 


150  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

One  sunny  afternoon  she  was  sitting  near  him  as 
he  worked,  weaving  ferns  and  mosses  into  a  crown, 
and  she  was  singing  a  song  that  he  had  taught  her. 
It  was  ''Afton  Water'*  set  to  an  old-fashioned, 
crooning  air: 

"Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  among  thy  green  braes, 
Flow  gently,  I'll  sing  thee  a  song  in  thy  praise ; 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream; 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  disturb  not  her  dream." 

"Yes,  yes,"  muttered  Waters,  pausing  to  listen, 
"the  woman  in  her  is  sleepin'  yet  by  this  old  stream, 
and  don't  you  wake  her.  Waters.  She's  only  a  little 
girl  yet,  dreamin'  sweet  little  girl  dreams;  and 
don't  you  wake  her." 

When  she  had  ceased  singing,  "Come  here,  lit- 
tle butterfly,"  he  said.  She  ran  to  him  and  sat  down 
on  a  log  beside  him.  He  gently  fondled  her  long 
gold  hair.  "Do  you  know  that  I  love  you,  little  but- 
terfly?" he  said.  "Yes,"  she  said,  breaking  out  into 
a  snatch  of  song;  "and  I  love  you,"  she  added, 
breaking  off  the  song  abruptly. 

"But  do  you  know,  little  butterfly,  what  that 
means?" 

"It  means  being  very  glad,"  she  answered; 
"doesn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Waters;  "that's  what  it  means, 
I  guess."     He  gently  touched  his  lips  to  her  fore- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  151 

head.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  kissed  her.  She 
gave  a  little  cry  of  surprise. 

'^Don't  you  want  me  to  do  that  any  more?"  Wat- 
ers said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said  merrily;  "I  was  asleep  one 
day  under  a  tree ;  and  all  at  once  something  touched 
me  on  the  forehead.  It  was  very  kind  and  warm; 
and  I  awoke,  and  it  was  a  sunray  that  had  stolen 
dow^n  through  the  leaves.    It  felt  like  that." 

Waters  kissed  her  gently  again,  and  then  returned 
to  his  work,  muttering  to  himself,  *'Only  a  little  but- 
terfly playin'  in  the  sun,  that's  all." 

One  evening  after  they  had  watched  the  sun  down 
from  the  top  of  the  bluff,  as  was  their  daily  habit, 
the  girl  had  said,  looking  across  the  river  to  the 
mainland:  **I  wonder  if  the  flowers  are  more  beau- 
tiful over  there  than  they  are  here.  Can't  we  go 
and  see?"  And  Waters  had  promised  that  they 
would  go  sometime.  So  he  had  hewn  a  rude  boat 
from  a  cottonwood  log,  that  they  might  go  across 
together  and  explore  the  strange  land. 

One  afternoon,  leaving  the  old  man  deep  in  his 
great  scheme,  upon  which  he  now  spent  all  his  wak- 
ing hours.  Waters  and  the  girl  pushed  off  in  the 
cottonwood  canoe  and  landed  on  the  mysterious 
shore.  The  girl  was  ecstatic  over  the  wonders  of 
the  new  country.  She  had  never  left  the  island  be- 
fore. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  a  deep  peal  of 


152  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

thunder  aroused  them  to  the  fact  that  the  gloom 
of  an  approaching  storm  had  fallen,  making  twilight 
in  the  forest. 

*'Come,  little  butterfly,"  said  Waters;  "it's  goin' 
to  rain,  I  guess."  And  they  hurried  to  the  place 
where  the  boat  was  moored.  The  air  was  heavy  and 
a  great  hush  had  fallen.  Waters  looked  anxiously 
up  the  river  to  the  northwest.  Across  that  quarter 
of  the  sky  hung  a  heavy  cloud  with  a  regular  forma- 
tion and  by  fits  the  blue-black  mass  was  riven  with 
forked  lightning.  There  was  not  the  faintest  hint 
of  wind.  The  river  had  become  a  stream  of  glass. 
Then  the  front  of  the  oncoming  cloud  began  to 
tatter  and  swing  long  ragged  tentacles  of  mist  before 
it.  A  crash  of  thunder  and  a  sudden  puff  of  wind 
broke  the  hush. 

"Come,  little  girl,"  said  Waters,  "we'd  better  be 
goin'." 

He  helped  her  into  the  boat  and  pushed  off.  As 
the  canoe  shot  through  the  glassy  water,  the  low 
rumble  of  the  thunder  became  an  incessant  rattle 
and  crash.  Then,  instantaneously,  the  wind  burst 
into  a  gale,  driving  with  it  a  deluge  of  rain. 

The  canoe  was  now  half  way  across  the  channel 
between  the  mainland  and  the  island.  A  second  and 
heavier  puff  of  wind  caught  its  prow  and  hurled  it 
broadside  to  the  blast.  Late  evening  had  grown 
up  in  the  golden  afternoon.  The  river  seethed  and 
simmered  like  heated  water  under  the  lash  of  the 
wind  and  rain.    With  a  great  effort,  Waters  again 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  153 

swung  the  prow  of  the  boat  into  the  wind.  The 
storm  now  redoubled  its  fury.  The  wind  burst  into 
a  hurricane,  lifted  the  light  craft,  hurled  it  upon  its 
side  and  its  occupants  went  into  the  river. 

When  Waters'  head  emerged  above  the  surface, 
he  saw  near  him  the  golden  hair  of  the  girl,  stream- 
ing on  the  flood  like  sunlight,  as  she  struggled  im- 
potently.  The  light  boat  had  been  whisked  out  of 
reach  by  the  wind  and  current. 

Waters  was  a  strong  swimmer.  With  a  stroke 
he  reached  the  girl,  and  passing  his  left  arm  around 
her  body,  lifted  her  head  above  the  surface.  In 
that  moment,  all  the  love  that  had  been  growing 
in  him  since  his  coming  to  the  island,  became  a 
frenzy.  The  girl  shrieked  and  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck  with  her  face  against  his  face. 

Waters  turned  himself  upon  his  back,  thus  throw- 
ing the  warm  beating  breast  of  the  girl  against  his 
breast,  where  he  supported  her.  He  threw  his  arms 
out  and  turned  his  head  into  the  current  that  he 
might  not  be  swept  below  the  island.  With  the 
long  back  stroke  and  the  backward  thrust  of  the  legs, 
he  battled  with  the  flood  and  wind. 

As  he  swam  with  the  frail  arms  about  his  neck, 
and  the  warm  breast  beating  against  him,  he  no 
longer  remembered  the  storm  or  the  dangers  of  the 
feat  he  had  undertaken.  He  felt  only  the  warm 
frail  body  close  to  him;  the  quick  hot  breath  upon 
his  face ;   the  long  wet  hair  upon  his  cheeks. 

The  hot  blood  pounded  at  his  temples.    The  dull 


154  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

hum  of  the  water  in  his  ears  became  an  exquisite 
melody.  It  seemed  that  he  had  always  been  swim- 
ming; that  this  same  melody  had  always  been  in 
his  ears;  that  this  warm  body  had  from  the  begin- 
ning of  time  clung  to  him,  and  would  cling  endlessly. 

But  at  last,  his  shoulders  struck  upon  the  sand, 
and  exhausted  with  the  strain  he  had  undergone,  he 
dragged  the  weight  at  his  neck  onto  the  shore  and 
fell  beside  it. 

He  did  not  feel  the  rain  beating  in  his  face;  did 
not  hear  the  trees  groaning  in  the  blast.  He  threw 
his  arms  about  the  panting  form  beside  him,  drew 
it  crushingly  to  him,  kissed  it  with  hot  lips  upon  the 
gasping  mouth.  She  was  no  longer  the  little  girl  to 
him,  the  little  butterfly  playing  in  the  sun.  The 
awakening  storm  had  come. 

For  a  time  she  lay  upon  the  sand,  her  wet  gar- 
ments clinging  to  her  body,  her  eyes  closed  to  the 
driven  rain,  wrapped  in  her  wet  hair,  with  her 
blanched  lips — suddenly  become  the  lips  of  a  wo- 
man— pressed  to  the  lips  of  the  man. 

At  length,  with  a  frightened  cry,  she  struggled 
out  of  his  weakened  arms  and  fled.  Then,  when  his 
arms  were  empty,  he  heard  the  crash  of  the  thunder, 
the  moaning  of  the  trees,  and  felt  the  rain  in  his  face. 


X 

The  Butterfly  With  the  Crushed  Wings 

The  next  morning,  when  Waters  sat  down  to 
breakfast,  his  heart  sank.  She  who  had  only  yester- 
day borne  such  a  frank,  childish  countenance  for 
him,  now  avoided  his  gaze,  and  something  like  sor- 
row had  come  across  her  face,  where  before  there 
had  been  only  joy. 

He  ate  very  little,  and  taking  his  axe,  went  out 
into  the  timber.  His  heart  was  heavy.  The  storm 
of  the  day  before  had  washed  the  sky  a  clearer  blue ; 
not  a  cloud  marred  it.  The  air  was  soft;  the  birds 
and  bees  made  their  music  in  the  sunlight.  He  alone, 
it  seemed,  in  all  creation  had  no  song  at  his  heart. 
The  work  dragged;  he  had  lost  interest  in  it.  All 
the  forenoon  he  forced  himself  to  his  task,  and 
when  the  shadows  fell  to  the  north,  he  hurried  to  the 
house  with  a  feverish  desire  to  look  into  her  face 
again.  All  forenoon  she  had  not  come  to  him.  He 
entered  the  house  and  found  the  meal  waiting,  but 
the  girl  did  not  appear.  He  ate  in  nervous  haste. 
How  terribly  still  the  world  had  grown!  The  old 
man,  absorbed  in  his  great  scheme,  muttered  to  him- 
self at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 


156  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Waters  left  his  meal  half  finished,  and  hurried 
out  into  the  woods.  He  tried  to  work,  but  he  could 
not.  Repeatedly  he  would  awaken  to  the  fact  that 
she  was  not  there,  and  that  he  was  leaning  upon  his 
axe  and  gazing  at  nothing. 

At  last  he  dropped  his  axe  and  threw  himself 
upon  his  face  in  the  cool  ferns. 

"O  God!"  he  moaned.  "What  have  you  gone 
and  done,  Waters?  There  ain't  no  little  butterfly 
a-playin'  in  the  sun  any  more!  You've  gone  and 
brushed  the  gold  powder  off'n  its  wings  and  crushed 
'em  I  You've  gone  and  waked  her  up  when  she  was 
dreamin'  sweet  little  girl's  dreams,  and  she'll  never 
laugh  and  play  again  like  she  did !  Oh,  why  didn't 
you  leave  the  little  butterfly  a-playin'  in  the  flowers, 
enjoyin'  the  sun?  Why  didn't  you  let  her  stay  a 
little  girl,  and  never  be  no  woman  at  all?  What'd 
you  go  and  show  her  how  to  suffer  for?  She  never 
had  no  sorrow  in  her  face  until  to-day.  Now  it's 
come  there,  and  you  can't  never  get  it  clean  out 
again !  Pore  little  sad  butterfly  without  no  powder 
on  its  spoilt  wings!  You  could've  gone  on  bein' 
lonesome.  Waters,  better'n  to  stop  her  dreamin'. 
You've  been  lonesome  so  long  that  it  wouldn't  've 
mattered." 

Waters  moaned  and  tossed  about  upon  the  ferns. 
As  he  lay  there,  his  old  dreams  of  home  came  back, 
and  he  grew  calm,  as  his  brain  built  pictures  of  hap- 
piness. He  saw  himself  returning  to  a  log  house  in 
the  clearing  when  the  evening  was  shutting  in. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  157 

He  heard  the  bass  droning  of  the  innumerable  lit- 
tle lives  about  him,  threaded  with  the  light  arpeggio 
of  children's  laughter.  He  saw  in  the  doorway  of 
his  house,  a  doorway  green  with  vines,  the  figure  of 
the  Girl,  with  a  face  grown  motherly,  like  the  face 
of  Mrs.  Sprangs. 

He  went  on  far  into  the  afternoon,  fashioning 
pictures  of  the  future.  At  last  he  got  up,  shook 
himself  as  if  to  throw  off  a  troublesome  weight,  and 
smiled  at  everything  in  general.  The  sun  of  his 
optimism  had  again  struggled  up  through  the  mist. 

"I  will  go  and  find  her,"  he  said.  First  he  trav- 
ersed the  shore,  but  did  not  find  her.  Then  he 
sought  in  the  old  nooks  which  she  loved,  but  still 
she  was  not  to  be  seen.  At  last  he  climbed  the  bluff 
that  looked  off  into  the  West,  and  there,  sitting  in  the 
scant  and  ragged  shade  of  an  isolated  scrub  oak  upon 
the  bleak  summit,  he  saw  her. 

She  was  huddled  up  against  the  crooked  trunk  of 
the  tree,  with  her  hands  upon  her  knees  and  her 
forehead  resting  upon  her  hands.  Her  long  hair 
fell  about  her  huddled  body  like  a  golden  mantle. 

She  had  not  heard  him  approaching,  and  sat  mo- 
tionless. Waters  felt  a  sudden  eagerness  to  clasp 
her  and  kiss  her.  He  moved  toward  her,  and  with 
a  start,  she  raised  her  face,  momentarily  blank  with 
surprise;  then  she  smiled  a  vague,  sad,  timorous 
smile.  Her  face  was  paler  than  was  its  wont.  Her 
eyes  were  dimmed:  for  she  had  been  crying,  and 
tears  still  clung  to  her  weary  eyelids. 


158  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Waters  was  touched  deeply  with  the  change  he 
saw  In  her  face;  no  more  the  laughing,  sunlit  face  of 
the  little  girl,  but  ennobled  with  the  first  strange 
pangs  of  passion,  and  sublimated  with  a  vague,  sweet 
sadness. 

Waters  knelt  beside  her  and  placed  a  trembling 
arm  about  her  shoulders. 

"I've  been  lookin'  all  over  for  you,  little  butter- 
fly, and  you  never  came  a-nigh  me  all  day.  Don't 
you  like  me  no  more?  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you. 
You've  been  cryin',  too,  little  butterfly,  pore  little 
butterfly." 

He  brushed  the  golden  hair  from  her  face  and 
kissed  her  softly  upon  the  eyelids.  But  she  spoke 
not  a  word,  and  trembled  like  a  tired,  frightened 
thing  that  submits  to  be  caught. 

"O  little  woman!"  said  Waters,  speaking  softly, 
with  his  lips  close  to  her  cheek,  and  his  face  bathed 
in  the  sun  of  her  hair;  **you  never  knowed  before, 
did  you?  You  never  knowed  how  I've  been  wantin' 
you  all  these  days  and  nights.  I've  tumbled  all  over 
this  here  world  a-lookin'for  somethin'I  never  found, 
'cause  It  was  you  I  was  a-lookin'  for  all  the  time. 
And  I've  been  lonesome  and  mean  and  bad,  'cause 
I  couldn't  never  get  a  sight  of  you.  I  knowed  alius 
that  If  I'd  ever  see  you,  it  'd  be  like  the  sun  a-comin' 
up  out'n  a  black  night — and  it  was ! 

"I  want  you  to  be  my  mate.  I  know  I'm  hombly 
and  mean  lookin',  but  can't  you  see  under  the  skin, 
little  woman?     When  the  Winter's  over  and  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  159 

Spring  comes,  the  jays  and  the  bluebirds  and  the  cat- 
birds and  the  robins  and  the  swallers  find  'em  mates 
and  go  to  makin'  'em  homes.  It's  been  Winter  so 
long,  and  now  it's  Spring,  and  since  I  seen  you,  my 
heart's  been  like  a  robin's,  and  I  want  you  I  You 
hain't  no  little  girl  any  more.  You're  a  woman 
and  I'm  a  man;  and,  oh,  you're  so  much  prettier'n 
you  was;  prettier  like  a  warm  red  rose  in  the  sun  is 
prettier  'n  a  pink  bud  sleepin'  in  the  shadders  and  the 
dew." 

Waters'  voice  ran  on  softly  like  the  voice  of  a 
spring  that  overflows  and  makes  low  music  in  the 
woodland  silences. 

"And  if  you'll  be  my  mate,  I'll  build  a  nice  house 
for  a  nest,  and  we'll  live  together,  not  for  one  Sum- 
mer, but  always.  And  I'll  be  good  to  you  and  look 
after  you,  'cause  I'm  stronger'n  you,  and  you're  pret- 
tier'n me.     Won't  you?" 

He  put  his  hand  tenderly  under  her  chin  and 
raised  her  face  that  he  might  look  into  her  eyes. 
They  were  filled  with  tears. 

"Hain't  you  never  goin'  to  be  happy  no  more?" 
said  Waters. 

Her  lips  quivered,  and  burying  her  face  in  his 
arms,  she  sobbed: 

"I  thought  I  was  not  happy;  but  oh,  I  ami  I 
never  knew  before  that  it  hurts  to  be  happy!" 


XI 
Fuel  for  the  Winter 

That  night  was  one  of  enchantment  for  Waters. 
He  lay  awake  far  into  the  small  hours,  listening  to 
the  beautiful  words  spoken  by  the  girl  on  the  bleak 
summit,  that  sang  themselves  through  his  brain  in 
endless  repetition.  When  he  closed  his  eyes,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  universe  was  only  a  great 
endless  darkness  and  a  great  holy  stillness,  but  with 
the  woman's  face  and  the  thrill  of  her  voice  poten- 
tial in  the  night  and  hush. 

His  dreams  toiled  powerfully  in  the  dark  beneath 
his  eyelids.  Like  young  gods  they  shouldered  away 
all  that  was  dark  in  his  mind  and  cleared  a  space  for 
day.  And  through  the  new  day,  like  singing  winds, 
ran  the  words  sobbed  in  his  ear  beneath  the  isolated 
oak. 

In  the  morning  he  arose  early  and  called  Am- 
brosen. 

"Dad,"  said  Waters,  *'I  want  to  talk  to  you.  IVe 
listened  to  you  and  now  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me." 
Waters  waited  while  the  old  man  dressed.  "Let's  go 
out  into  the  cool  sweet  morning  before  I  tell  you 
what  I  got  to  say,"  said  he. 

1 60 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  i6i 

They  went  out  into  the  open  air,  twilit  with  the 
early  dawn. 

*'Dad,"  said  Waters  at  last,  "me  and  your  girl 
loves  each  other.*' 

The  old  man  stopped  and  stared  upon  the  face  of 
Waters  with  lowering  brows. 

"Yes,  we  do,"  continued  Waters.  "Oh,  won't  you 
git  young  again  jest  for  a  minute,-  Dad,  so's  you'll 
understand?  You  mind  what  you  told  me  about  her 
mother?     It's  jest  like  that." 

A  soft  momentary  light  came  upon  the  face  of 
Ambrosen. 

"Oh,  I  see  you  hain't  quite  fergoti"  continued 
Waters  with  trembling  voice.  "You  hain't  fergot 
how  the  gold  of  her  hair  and  the  light  of  her  face 
got  into  your  blood;  and  how  thinkin'  of  her  was 
like  hearin'  a  song!  You  know,  I've  alius  been 
alone.  Dad,  and  I've  lived  rough  because  it  didn't 
seem  no  use  to  be  good.  I've  been  hombly  alius, 
*cause  I  got  a  bad  eye  and  a  wooden  leg,  and  folks 
can't  all  see  under  the  hide  what  a  feller'd  like  to  be. 
And  I  alius  felt  ugly  and  acted  ugly.  I've  drunk  a 
river  of  liquor  tryin'  to  drown  sorrow,  but  sor- 
row's a  good  swimmer,  and  it  don't  drown  that  way. 
Yesterday  I  kissed  her  and  it  was  like  drinkin'  a 
big  mug  of  warm  light.  That's  the  only  thing  sor- 
row can't  swim  in — light. 

"Look  at  me,  Dad  I    Am  I  as  hombly  as  I  was?" 

Could  it  have  been  the  dawn  that  made  the  dis- 
figured face  of  the  man  suffused  with  light? 


1 62  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

**I  can't  be,"  continued  Waters;  "I  don't  feeV 
hombly  no  more.  I  feel  b'utifull  Hain't  a  feller 
pretty  much  like  he  feels?" 

Ambrosen  stared  long  Into  the  brilliant  eye  of 
Waters  with  a  penetrating  glance,  as  though  he 
looked  deeper  than  the  retina  can  register. 

*'You  are  beautiful!"  said  the  old  man  slowly. 
He  placed  his  bony  hands  over  his  eyes  and  bowed 
his  head.    *'Even  as  I  was  once,"  he  added. 

For  many  minutes  the  two  stood  silent,  while  the 
morning  grew. 

''Let  me  marry  her  then!"  said  Waters  at  length. 

The  old  man  removed  his  hands  from  his  face, 
and  saw  Waters  leaning  toward  him,  his  body  and 
face  tense,  his  lips  quivering.  At  length  he  said 
wearily: 

"With  all  my  philosophies.  Waters,  I  can  not  ban- 
ish this  thing  called  Love.  Ah,  if  the  world  could 
know  Its  meaning  better,  there  would  be  no  need  to 
wait  for  the  heavens;  there  would  be  no  need  to 
dream  of  grotesque  gods ;  there  would  be  no  need  of 
maddening  philosophies ;  and  I  would  not  have  been 
here  with  a  great  dream  eating  my  brain  like  a 
cancer.  When  I  allow  this  thing  to  creep  into  my 
great  plan.  It  fails  as  a  bitter  dream  fails  before  the 
memory  of  better  things ;  and  I  am  only  a  man  lost 
in  wonder — lost  In  wonder!" 

Both  were  silent  for  some  time,  while  the  dawn 
slowly  expanded. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Ambrosen,  breaking  the  silence 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  163 

with  a  start;  "it  Is  not  love  I  seek  to  annihilate;  it 
is  hate.  Perhaps  if  I  succeed  in  shattering  the  sys- 
tems Into  dust,  this  thing  shall  live  and  sing  new 
worlds  out  of  chaos  I" 

''Yes/'  said  the  old  man  at  length,  "take  her, 
Waters.  I  would  not  wish  to  take  one  beautiful 
chord  from  among  the  cosmic  jangles.  Tak^  her; 
and  if  my  plan  should  fail,  be  happy  as  a  man  can  be. 
And  if  I  do  not  fail,  who  knows  ?  Perhaps  this  thing 
shall  sing — sing  like  the  memory  of  an  old  song  in 
the  silence.  I  had  thought  to  see  her  grow  and  bud 
and  blossom  like  a  flower,  without  the  flower's  hot, 
shrivelling,  fatal  desire  for  the  seed.  Ah,  even 
perfume  and  color  exist  but  for  that  one  end.  But 
maybe  I  am  wrong  I    These  dreams  I  these  dreams !" 

"Thanks,  Dad  I  thanks!"  cried  Waters,  when  the 
old  man  had  ceased  speaking.  But  a  change  came 
over  the  face  of  Ambrosen.  He  scowled  and  his 
eyes  took  on  a  steely  glitter. 

"Oh,  don't  thank  me.  Waters!"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  that  was  almost  a  snarl.  "Thank  the  poor 
weak  wretch  that  I  once  was !  Thank  the  poor  fool 
that  I  was  when  I  believed  in  all  the  painted  lies  of 
life!  You  have  fallen  into  the  old  trap,  and  you 
kiss  that  which  has  ensnared  you.  The  ever-success- 
ful trick  of  Nature!     Faugh!" 

And  he  turned  and  strode  away,  clenching  his 
fists  and  muttering:  "Fool!  Fool!  I  almost  be- 
came a  man  again!    Fool!    Fool!" 

"Pore  Dad,"  muttered  Waters;    "pore  oV  man! 


1 64  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

His  old  heart  is  like  a  fireplace  when  the  logs  has 
burned  into  ashes.  The  yeller  blaze  spurts  up  now 
and  then,  but  gits  blue  and  falls  back,  'cause  they 
hain't  nothin'  left  to  burn.  And  by  and  by  a  cold 
wind'll  come  a-whinin'  down  the  chimley,  and  then 
they  won't  be  nothin'  left  but  ashes.    Pore  ol'  man  I 

"Oh,  a  feller's  got  to  keep  his  fire  goin'  I  When 
he's  happy  he'd  ought  to  be  layin'  away  fuel  to 
warm  his  hands  by  when  the  cold  wind  comes  down 
the  chimley  I" 

From  that  morning  a  quiet  and  continuous  joy 
dwelt  in  Waters.  Another  branch  was  added  to  his 
industry.  He  began  building  a  larger  log  house  on  a 
grassy  knoll  of  the  bluff  that  overlooked  the  sunset. 
Here  he  had  resolved  to  make  his  happiness,  and  lay 
away  that  fuel  of  the  heart  that  its  fire  might  not 
fail  when  the  cold  winds  should  come. 

Two  steamboats  had  already  put  in  at  Old  Man's 
Island  for  wood,  and  Waters  had  begun  laying  away 
the  basis  of  a  modest  little  fortune  which  he  meant 
to  have  some  day.  For  had  not  other  men  been 
fathers? 

So  the  dream  went  on,  and  the  work  progressed 
until  in  the  latter  part  of  August  the  new  house 
was  ready  for  occupancy,  and  Waters  began  looking 
for  the  returning  Lucas,  The  joking  words  of  the 
captain  had  grown  into  a  meaning.  Waters  had  de- 
cided that  he  would  need  the  Missionary. 


XII 
The  Wedding  in  the  Wilderness 

Near  the  close  of  a  day  in  early  September,  the 
John  H.  Lucas,  bound  for  Fort  Benton,  pulled  up 
to  the  Island  and  made  fast.  Waters,  who  for  sev- 
eral weeks  had  been  listening  and  looking  with  su- 
persensitive ear  and  eye  for  the  boat,  was  at  the 
shore  when  she  pulled  in.  The  haloed  smile,  be- 
loved of  Specks,  made  his  face  a  picture  of  joy. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Waters!'*  said  the  captain,  coming 
down  the  gang-plank  with  hand  extended;  "how's 
the  wood  business?" 

"Plenty  of  it,"  replied  Waters  laconically,  for  he 
was  thinking  of  something  else. 

"Well,  we  brought  your  stuff  along.  We'll  lay  up 
here  for  the  night  and  wood  up,  if  the  King  doesn't 
object,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  pleasantly. 

"Didn't  fergit  the  Missionary?"  queried  Waters. 

The  captain's  face  was  momentarily  clouded  with 
perplexity;  then  a  light  broke  upon  it  and  he 
laughed  aloud. 

"Is  it  time  for  congratulations?"  he  said,  extend- 
ing his  hand  to  Waters,  who  nodded  affirmatively. 

165 


1 66  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Well,  shake  on  it!  You're  certainly  prospering 
up  here.  So  there's  going  to  be  a  Queen,  eh?  Yes, 
the  Missionary's  aboard.  Shall  I  arrange  for  it  to 
take  place  to-morrow  morning  at  sunrise?" 

"Wisht  you  would,"  said  Waters. 

''Well,  you're  prospering!  Shake  again!  Won't 
come  and  have  a  drink  on  that,  will  you?" 

Waters  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"That's  right;  stick  to  it.  You  leave  the  ar- 
rangements to  me  and  there'll  be  a  wedding.  Where 
do  you  want  it  to  take  place?  On  the  boat?  Or 
has  the  King  a  palace?" 

'Td  rather  have  it  up  on  the  bluff  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Island,"  said  Waters;  "clean  up  on  the 
peak  where  the  scrub  oak  is." 

"It  shall  be  as  the  King  wishes,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain. "And  the  guests?  Shall  it  be  private  or  pub- 
lic?" 

"Bring  the  whole  crew!"  said  Waters. 

"All  right,"  replied  the  captain.  "If  the  King 
will  appear  with  the  Queen  at  this  place  a  half  hour 
before  sun-up,  we  will  be  ready.  Now  you'd  better 
come  on  board  and  take  a  shave  and  clean  up.  I'll 
have  the  men  carry  your  goods  ashore  this  evening. 
We'll  wood  up  to-night  and  be  ready  to  start  north 
as  soon  as  the  ceremony  is  over." 

The  next  morning  at  the  peep  of  day,  the  shore  of 
the  Island  near  the  moored  boat  presented  a  most 
unusual  spectacle.  The  boat's  entire  crew  of  twenty 
men  sat  about  among  the  ferns,  chatting  pleasantly 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  167 

and  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  bridal  couple.  The 
captain,  mate,  pilots  and  engineers  were  dressed 
elegantly  for  the  occasion,  while  the  deckhands  wore 
their  working  clothes  and  a  general  air  of  having 
been  thoroughly  shaved  and  combed. 

A  pilot,  removed  a  short  distance  from  the  rest, 
sat  cross-legged  with  a  fiddle  placed  to  his  chin, 
meditatively  drawing  the  bow.  across  the  strings. 
The  Missionary,  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
clad  in  the  robes  of  his  office,  with  a  book  in  hand, 
sat  among  the  awaiting  guests. 

It  was  a  clear,  quiet  morning.  The  hush  of  the 
dying  night  was  broken  only  by  the  happy  call  and 
answer  of  the  awakening  birds.  Suddenly  out  of 
the  gloom  of  the  forest.  Waters  and  the  girl 
emerged  into  the  twilight.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
new  suit  just  received  from  the  Lucas,  and  his 
freshly  shaved  face  glowed.  She  wore  a  simple 
garment  of  the  kind  worn  when  Waters  first  saw  her. 
Her  delicate  face  bore  a  look  of  anxiety  as  she  clung 
timorously  to  Waters'  arm.  Her  hair  hung  loosely 
about  her  shoulders. 

As  the  couple  appeared,  a  murmur  of  surprise  ran 
among  the  awaiting  guests,  who  stared  with  wondet 
upon  the  unexpected  beauty  of  the  *'Queen.'' 

Simultaneously  they  all  arose.  The  captain  bear- 
ing a  fern  wreath  in  his  hand,  approached  the  couple 
and,  bowing,  said:  *'Mr.  Waters,  I  think  I  have  not 
yet  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the  Queen." 

"Cap*n,"  replied  Waters  simply,  "this  is  her — 


1 68  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Miss — uh — Ambrosen.'^  The  captain  bowed  low 
with  his  hand  at  his  heart.  Half  in  fun,  but  gen- 
uinely captivated  by  the  peculiar  wild  beauty  of  the 
young  woman,  he  surpassed  himself  in  politeness: 
"I  am  delighted  to  meet  you,  Miss  Ambrosen.  Al- 
low me  to  place  this  wreath  upon  a  head  where  it 
can  scarcely  regret  the  absence  of  the  sun!" 

He  crowned  her  with  the  wreath,  then  turning 
to  those  who  still  stared  with  admiration  upon  the 
woman,  he  announced: 

**Gentlemen,  the  Queen!" 

The  men  bowed  low  and  the  Island  Girl,  bewil- 
dered by  these  strange  ceremonies,  clung  closely  to 
Waters.  The  captain  again  turned  to  the  bride  and 
groom. 

"You  will  now  please  take  your  places  behind  the 
reverend  Father,"  he  said,  "whom  I  have  instructed 
as  to  the  place  of  ceremonies."  Then  turning  to  his 
crew:     "Gentlemen,  fall  in!" 

And  the  bridal  procession  began. 

At  the  head,  with  a  slow,  majestic  pace,  went  the 
priest,  followed  by  the  bride  and  groom,  then  the 
captain  and  mate,  then  the  two  pilots,  the  two  engi- 
neers and  the  deckhands,  walking  two  and  two. 

As  the  procession  started,  the  pilot,  with  the  vio- 
Fm,  began  to  play  a  slow,  majestic  march  upon  his 
instrument. 

Never  before  in  the  wilderness  had  such  a  spec- 
tacle presented  itself.  Crowned  with  flowers,  with 
a  solemn,  measured  tread,  they  passed  on  through 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  169 

the  ferns  and  flowers,  in  and  out  among  the  trees, 
with  the  ever-increasing  light  of  the  coming  day 
upon  their  animated  faces. 

Suddenly,  as  the  procession  proceeded,  the  ma- 
jestic march  tune  was  broken  off  and  the  sweet 
strains  of  an  old  familiar  air  came  from  the  violin. 
It  was  "Annie  Laurie." 

The  pilot  who  played,  began  singing  the  famihar 
words  in  a  rich  baritone  voice.  At  once  the  whole 
procession  caught  up  the  song  and  made  the  forest 
echo. 

"Maxwelton's  braes  are  bonny 
Where  early  fa's  the  dew; 
And  'twas  there  that  Annie  Laurie 
Ga'e  me  her  promise  true. 
Ga'e  me  her  promise  true. 
That  ne'er  forgot  shall  be; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 
I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee. 

"Her  brow  was  like  the  snaw  drift, 
Her  neck  was  like  the  swan ; 
And  her  face  it  was  the  fairest 
That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on." 

As  the  singers  proceeded,  rapt  in  the  ecstasy  of 
the  song,  an  old  man,  unseen  by  the  bridal  company, 
watched  their  approach  from  the  cover  of  a  thicket. 
He  held  a  rifle  in  his  trembling  hands.     Closer  and 


170  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

closer  to  where  he  lay  concealed  came  the  singers. 
He  cocked  the  rifle  and  held  a  nervous  finger  on  the 
trigger,  and  his  face  became  dark. 

"And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 
I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee." 

As  the  singers  passed  where  he  lay,  the  refrain, 
sung  by  twenty  deep  voices,  arose  in  ecstasy.  The 
old  man's  face  changed.  He  carefully  let  down  the 
hammer  of  his  rifle.  His  lips  quivered,  his  eyes 
softened.  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
sobbed. 

"That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on. 
And  a  dark  blue  was  her  ee; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie, 
I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee." 

The  singers  passed  on  and  the  song  became  muf- 
fled in  the  depths  of  the  forest.  The  procession 
reached  the  bluff,  and  mounted  its  steep  incline  with 
a  measured  tread.  They  reached  the  summit  and 
halted  beneath  the  isolated  oak,  with  the  broad  land- 
scape, lit  by  the  slowly  growing  dawn,  spread  out 
before  them. 

According  to  a  plan  pre-arranged  by  the  captain, 
the  crew  of  the  Lucas  formed  in  a  semicircle  about 
the  priest,  who  stood  facing  the  bridal  couple;  and 
the  ceremony  began. 

Far  over  the  green  hills  to  the  East  the  miracle 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  171 

of  dawn  was  in  progress.  As  the  priest's  voice  arose 
sonorously  in  the  hush,  the  yellow  blur  at  the  horizon 
flashed  into  crimson  and  gold.  The  morning 
mists  arose  from  the  river,  and  grew  scintillant  in 
the  glow  of  dawn.  The  scent  of  the  dew-steeped 
green  things  filled  the  air  like  the  perfume  of  some 
unseen  censer. 

''Kneel,  my  children!"  said  the  priest,  extending 
his  arms  above  the  two  before  him  and  raising  his 
face  to  the  sky. 

A  great  hush  like  that  which  follows  the  dying 
notes  of  an  organ  closed  about  the  summit. 

Then  the  sun  peered  above  the  hills,  throwing 
out  horizontal  paths  of  gold  through  the  river  mists 
and  wrapping  the  bleak  bluff  in  a  glow  of  light. 

The  voice  of  the  priest  continued  amid  the  glory 
and  the  hush. 

"And  now,  in  this  vast,  green  sanctuary  of  God, 
with  the  sunlight  of  his  love  about  you  and  the  clear 
blue  of  his  heaven  above  you,  I  pronounce  you  man 
and  wife.  May  the  beauty  of  this  hour  dwell  in 
you  hereafter.  May  your  hearts  remain  pure  and 
fresh  as  the  dew  about  you.  In  the  name  of  Him 
whose  spirit  is  the  goodness  and  beauty  of  this  vast 
wilderness,  I  bless  you  I" 

After  the  crew  had  filed  past  the  couple,  offering 
their  congratulations  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Waters, 
which  the  Island  Girl  received  with  shyness,  the  pro- 
cession began  the  descent  of  the  bluff  and  proceeded 
to  the  boat. 


l^l  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

At  the  moment  of  his  going  aboard,  the  captain 
produced  a  small  bundle  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  to  Waters.  Then  the  cables  were  taken  in,  the 
gang  plank  was  raised,  and  the  John  Lucas  with 
grunting  and  snoring  pulled  out  into  the  stream. 

The  man  and  woman  stood  upon  the  shore  with 
clasped  hands,  watching  the  boat.  The  crew  stood 
bunched  at  the  stern,  waving  farewell;  and  as  the 
steamer  gained  speed,  they  began  singing  ^'^Annie 
Laurie."  Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  snoring  of 
the  steamer  and  the  song. 

"And  her  face  it  was  the  fairest 
That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on; 
That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on. 
And  a  dark  blue  was  her  ee-'— " 

The  words  of  the  song  became  unintelligible  in 
the  distance.  Only  the  air,  sung  with  strong  lungs, 
came  to  the  ears  of  Waters  and  his  heart  supplied 
the  words : 

'*And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 
I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee." 


XIII 

The  Autumn 

The  package  which  Waters  had  received  from 
the  captain  at  the  last  moment  contained  a  letter 
from  Specks  and  a  copy  of  the  Fort  Calhoun  Trum- 
pet,    The  letter  ran  as  follows: 

"Dear  Crony — Pa  died;  he  was  sick  when  he 
come  home  and  never  lived  long.  I  feel  bad,  but 
he  was  gone  so  long  that  he  didn't  seem  like  my 
pa.  I  wisht  you  was  my  pa.  Don't  you  suppose 
you  could  come  down  and  be?  Or  can't  you  leave 
being  King  of  the  island?  Sometimes  ma  looks 
out  of  the  window  a  long  time  and  then  she  talks 
about  you.  I  am  setting  type  for  Mr.  Simpson 
again.  He  don't  like  you,  but  I  do.  Ma  says  tell 
you  she  ain't  forgot  how  good  you  was  neither. 
You  better  quit  being  King  and  come  down.  If 
you  don't,  I'm  coming  up  there  nt^t  summer.  I 
have  got  your  money  hid  and  I  keep  the  buffit 
locked.  For  a  while  ma  cried  lots,  but  now  she 
don't.     Don't  you  think  you  could  come  back? 

"Your  crony, 

**HENRy  Sprangs. 
173 


174  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"P.S.— Could  I  be  King  part  of  the  time  if  Fd 
come  up?** 

The  Trumpet  contained  a  notice  of  the  death  of 
the  returned  adventurer,  Mr.  Sprangs,  with  the 
usual  extravagant  encomium  which  is  the  portion  of 
the  recently  deceased,  who  become  for  the  moment 
immensely  important  in  the  public  eye,  just  as  they 
have  passed  out  of  it. 

In  his  great  happiness,  Waters  had  forgotten 
the  package  for  several  days,  and  had  taken  it  from 
his  pocket  one  afternoon  while  at  work  with  the  axe. 
When  he  had  finished  reading  these  messages  from 
the  world  which  he  had  cast  away,  he  sat  long 
upon  a  log  with  his  face  In  his  hands,  thinking  it 
over. 

How  strange  it  all  seemed  I  A  short  time  ago  he 
had  wanted  something  with  all  his  soul,  and  it  had 
slipped, out  of  his  grasp  just  when  he  was  about  to 
touch  It.  Now  he  no  longer  needed  It,  and  It  sud- 
denly became  possible  to  gain ;  as  though  Happiness 
fled  from  him  who  pursued  and  pursued  him  who 
fled  I 

All  the  old  Calhoun  days  came  back  in  a  bitter- 
sweet flood.  He  remembered  the  days  and  nights 
of  feverish  longing.  All  the  words  he  had  spoken 
to  Mrs.  Sprangs  and  all  she  had  spoken  to  him  ran 
mockingly  in  his  head  now.  He  remembered  the 
herculean  struggles  he  had  waged  with  the  demon 
of  his  past;  all  the  effort  he  had  spent  in  piling  back 
the  dark,  and  building  a  sunrise  in  the  rift  of  night 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  17S 

— a  vain  Sisyphean  toll!  He  remembered  all  the 
beautiful  dreams  he  had  dreamed,  and  how  they 
were  tossed  with  his  cork  leg  into  the  swirl  of  the 
river  at  midnight,  when  he  skulked  away  like  a  wild 
beast,  out  into  the  starlit  night  to  the  south. 

Suddenly,  as  all  these  old  memories  (they  seemed 
very  ancient  now)  ran  in  his  head,  like  cloud  piling 
upon  cloud  in  an  angry  night  sky,  the  vision  of  the 
sun-bathed  girl,  standing  waist-deep  in  a  cool  spring, 
shot  through  his  troubled  brain  like  a  flash  of  sun- 
light. 

Waters  raised  his  head  and  saw  how  the  good, 
quiet  afternoon  made  gold  about  him. 

**0h,  I  guess  God  knows  what  He's  doin'  I"  he 
said  aloud.  '*I  guess  He  knows.  Feller  fergits 
that  he  ain't  runnin'  this  unyverst.  A  feller  like  me 
thinks  that  if  he  had  the  runnin'  of  the  whole  busi- 
ness, he'd  put  a  big  stationary  moon  in  the  sky,  and 
have  the  whole  world  a-walkin'  paired  off  in  the 
moonlight,  with  a  fiddle  a-squeakin'  in  every  bunch 
of  brush  I  But  it  takes  black  clouds  and  thunder  and 
lightnin'  to  bring  rain  and  make  things  grow,  I 
guess. 

"A  feller's  alius  tryin'  to  have  his  flowers  without 
clouds  and  rain.  And  then  he  whines  at  the  thun- 
der and  dodges  the  lightnin'  and  frets  'cause  it's 
dark  I  You  had  your  clouds.  Waters,  and  now  the 
flowers  is  growin'.  That's  the  way  of  it.  You  jest 
pick  your  flowers  and  fergit  the  clouds  I" 

Having  restored  his  optimism  completely,  he  be- 


176  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

gan  plying  his  axe  merrily  and  whistling  the  while. 

The  Summer  passed;  the  quiet,  golden  days  of 
Autumn  came  with  the  first  frosts,  and  the  forest 
became  a  riot  of  garish  color.  The  forest,  unlike 
man,  imbued  so  deeply  with  the  optimism  of  the  sun, 
dresses  itself  more  brilliantly  at  the  death  of  the 
season  than  at  its  birth.  So  strong  and  sure  seems 
the  hope  of  its  magnificent  spirit,  that  it  makes  a  gala 
day  for  its  dying,  and  expires  in  royal  robes. 

Since  his  coming  to  the  island.  Waters  had  uncon- 
sciously absorbed  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  wil- 
derness. He  looked  forward  to  the  Winter  with 
joy,  thinking  of  the  snug  comforts  of  the  fireplace. 
He  had  gathered  the  small  crop  of  corn  and  pota- 
toes which  had  been  planted  in  the  Spring  by  the  old 
man.  Also,  he  had  laid  in  a  good  supply  of  other 
necessities  for  the  Winter,  purchased  with  wood 
from  northbound  steamers. 

In  late  October,  he  began  working  upon  Ambro- 
sen's  great  scheme.  And  when  Winter  closed  in,  the 
three  inhabitants  of  the  little  island  kingdom  were 
very  happy. 


XIV 
The  Cutting  of  the  Third  Notch 

Spring  had  come  to  the  island.  The  ice  had 
broken  up  in  the  river,  and  the  flood  leaped  Sum- 
merward  with  a  giant's  shout.  The  first  Spring  rain 
had  fallen.  What  song  is  sweeter  than  the  music 
of  the  first  Spring  rain?  It  is  the  answer  to  the  first 
bee;  the  sky's  cry  of  kinship  to  the  first  audacious 
robin.  It  is  the  most  exquisite  music  in  the  orches- 
tration of  the  seasons.  Its  song  is  the  song  of  re- 
lentance,  and  its  touch  is  the  caress  of  pity.  It  is 
as  though  the  great  Mother-Soul,  long  estranged, 
had  grown  tender  again,  and  wept. 

The  first  rain  is  more  than  a  condensation  of 
vapors.  Should  you  ask  a  scientist  to  explain  the 
matter  to  you,  he  would  weary  you  with  discussions 
concerning  the  thermometer  and  barometer.  He 
would  be  correct,  no  doubt.  But  giving  you  the 
facts  without  the  truth,  he  would  make  the  mistake 
of  leaving  the  heart  out  of  the  thing. 

The  first  bee  was  abroad  seeking  the  first  flower, 
and  the  silent  spaces  were  filled  with  its  exquisite 
droning  melody,  like  a  small  prelude  to  the  mightier 

177 


178  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

song  of  the  thunder  storm.  Light  was  abroad — the 
warm,  friendly,  yellow  light  of  Spring.  The  scien- 
tist says  that  light  and  sound  are  merely  different 
modes  of  molecular  motion;  then  may  not  light  and 
sound  bear  the  same  meaning  to  different  senses? 

And  now  between  the  fitful  thunder  showers,  the 
Spring  sunlight  filled  the  silent  places  of  the  wilder- 
ness, as  in  an  overture  the  low,  woman-singing  of 
the  violins  succeeds  a  storm  of  horns  and  cymbals. 

Amid  the  audible  and  visible  melody  of  the 
Spring,  the  Girl  dreamed  an  ancient  dream.  The 
mystery  of  motherhood  was  upon  her.  Day  by 
day  the  mystery  deepened.  She  sought  the  lone- 
some places  where  the  sunlight  filtered  through  the 
young  leaves,  and  brooded  in  wonderment.  At 
times  she  was  seized  with  a  great  soul-deep  ecstasy 
as  instinct  whispered  to  her  how  the  sweet  load  she 
carried  would  soon  lie  huddled  at  her  breast.  She 
felt  that  it  would  be  something  dearer  than  sunlight 
and  bird-song,  more  marvellous  and  fairer  than  the 
dawn.  And  often  she  was  terrified  with  strange  but 
sweet  pangs,  when  she  would  throw  herself  upon  the 
ground  beneath  the  kindly  shade  of  a  tree,  as  though 
she  sought  protection  upon  the  warm  breast  of 
Earth,  the  great,  kind,  pregnant  mother,  wise  with 
the  memory  of  much  love  and  many  children. 

As  the  Spring  developed  into  Summer,  the  girl 
lost  something  of  the  diaphanous  beauty  of  her 
Springtime.  As  the  prairies  grow  sallow  under  the 
midsummer  sun,  her  face  grew  sallow.     Her  eyes 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  179 

lost  some  of  their  lustre  and  her  limbs  their  fleet- 
ness.  When  she  sang  at  evening,  it  was  no  longer 
the  wild  paean  to  the  setting  sun,  but  a  low,  caressing 
croon.  She  sang  as  if  to  that  which  soon  should 
hear. 

One  June  night  Waters  sat  by  her  bed  in  the  house 
which  he  had  built  for  them  the  preceding  Fall. 
She  slept  uneasily  and  muttered  in  her  sleep.  Wat- 
ers gazed  upon  her  face,  already  marked  with  the 
patient  suffering  of  the  mother.  In  all  his  half- 
starved  life,  this  was  the  supreme  hour.  He  had 
become  a  King  in  this  wilderness,  and  his  kingdom 
lay  before  him;  a  creator,  and  the  sunlight  of  his 
love  lay  upon  his  cosmos. 

With  a  great  rapture  he  gazed  upon  her.  He 
scanned  the  haggard  eyes,  the  cheeks  that  had  lost 
some  of  their  bloom,  the  slight  fullness  of  the  throat, 
the  bosom  becoming  full  and  soft  to  be  the  pillow 
of  a  sensitive  little  head;  and  it  was  like  scanning 
the  irregular  lines  of  some  beautiful  poem. 

When  her  breathing  had  become  more  regular 
with  a  deeper  sleep,  he  leaned  over  the  bed  and 
placed  his  lips  tenderly  to  her  forehead.  Then, 
whistling  a  low  soft  air  under  his  breath,  he  took 
out  his  knife,  opened  it,  and  with  almost  religious 
care  he  carved  a  third  notch  upon  his  wooden  leg. 


XV 
The  Seventh  Day  of  the  Seventh  Month 

Late  in  the  month  of  June  an  heiress  had  been 
born  to  the  little  island  kingdom.  Waters  named 
her  June,  perhaps  so  more  because  of  the  month 
of  her  birth  than  that  her  advent  had  brought  the 
season  of  roses  to  his  heart.  It  was  now  with  a 
great  effort  that  he  continued  a  show  of  interest  in 
the  accomplishment  of  Ambrosen's  great  dream. 

The  supreme  event  of  Waters'  life  barely  served 
to  gain  a  passing  notice  from  Ambrosen,  who  toiled 
daily  with  nervous  energy,  placing  the  strings  upon 
the  series  of  harp  structures.  He  went  about  si- 
lently and  with  an  air  of  abstraction  that  was  in- 
comprehensible to  Waters.  Often  he  toiled  far 
into  the  night  in  the  dismal  cave,  setting  and  tuning 
the  strings,  and  would  not  leave  his  task  until  Wat- 
ers forced  him  away  to  bed.  His  sleep  was  rest- 
less and  broken  with  mutterings,  as  he  still  en- 
deavored in  his  dreams  to  tune  the  giant  strings. 

At  last  the  seventh  day  of  the  seventh  month 
came.  Ambrosen  arose  early  and  awakened  Wat- 
ers. 

1 80 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  i8i 

*'Come/'  he  said  in  a  strange  whisper;  "it  is  the 
dawn  of  the  last  day/* 

Waters  dressed  himself  while  the  old  man  paced 
nervously  up  and  down  the  room,  muttering: 
"Hurry,  hurry,  what  if  I  should  die — and  it  should 
fail!" 

Waters  placed  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
old  man.  "Look,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  child 
still  asleep  beside  its  mother. 

Ambrosen  laughed  a  low,  dry,  nervous  laugh. 
"Hurry,"  he  muttered;  "I  feel  strange.  I  may  die 
before  it  is  accomplished." 

They  went  out  into  the  early  morning  together. 
A  heavy  mist  lay  upon  the  river,  and  the  east  was 
blood-red.  Ambrosen  led,  walking  rapidly.  He 
stopped  suddenly  near  an  old  oak  tree  shattered  at 
the  top  by  lightning. 

"Behold  me!"  he  said  wearily,  pointing  to  the  top 
riven  by  the  mysterious  fire.  "If  I  should  fail,"  he 
said  slowly,  "dig  here  at  the  base.  It  will  arm  you 
against  the  world.  But  I  will  not  faill"  he  con- 
tinued, speaking  rapidly.     "Come,  let  us  hurry  I" 

Ambrosen  and  Waters  together  entered  the  sub- 
terranean library  that  led  to  the  great  cavern.  Both 
were  silent  as  they  walked.  Waters  thought  to  him- 
self: "What'll  Dad  do  when  he  hits  the  strings 
and  nothin'  happens?  What  in  thunder  will  he  do? 
Pore  ol'  man!"  When  they  had  reached  the  mouth 
of  the  cavern,  the  old  man  stopped  and  nervously 


i82  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

grasped  the  arm  of  his  companion.  Waters  noted 
that  Ambrosen's  teeth  were  chattering. 

**Cold,  Dad?"  he  said,  almost  affectionately. 

The  old  man  straightened  himself  and  said:  "I 
am  feeling  ill  this  morning,  Waters;  feeling  ill. 
Caught  some  cold  perhaps." 

Ambrosen  lit  a  candle.  *'Come,"  he  said,  his 
voice  trembling  strangely.  *'ComeI  The  last  bit- 
ter cup  of  darkness  and  silence  awaits  us  yonder  in 
the  shadows  I  Give  me  the  cup  I"  he  cried,  a  wild 
light  coming  into  his  eye.  He  ended  with  a  low,  in- 
human cackle  far  down  in  his  throat. 

As  they  proceeded,  there  was  the  weird  sound  as 
of  a  light  wind  blowing  through  the  strings  of  a 
mighty  harp.  The  light  of  day  came  faintly  through 
an  opening  in  the  roof  at  the  far  end  of  the  cavern. 

The  old  man  passed  his  flickering  candle  along 
the  walls  as  he  went,  and  lit  other  candles  placed  in 
the  crevices.  The  place  became  illuminated  with 
an  eerie  twilight,  discovering  a  series  of  seven  harp- 
like structures,  increasing  in  size  from  that  of  an 
ordinary  harp  to  one  of  colossal  proportions  far 
down  the  cavern. 

*'See  I"  cried  the  old  man.  "My  Dream  I  It  has 
materialized!  It  is  the  lever  of  Archimedes!  I 
control  the  universe  with  the  weight  of  my  little  fin- 
ger! Ah,  listen!  Is  it  not  a  very  wonderful  en- 
gine?" 

He  touched  a  string  of  the  smallest  harp.  The 
metallic  snarl  filled  the  place  with  echoes. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  183 

As  the  sound  died  away,  Waters  looked  upon  the 
face  of  Ambrosen.  He  thought  it  had  turned  paler. 
The  eyes  were  luminous  with  excitement. 

**Did  you  hear  it?"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  voice 
of  awe.  "And  it  was  only  one  string  smitten  lightly. 
Ah,  if  it  had  been  the  Master  Chord  of  seven  1" 

He  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast  and  mused 
awhile.  When  at  length  he  spoke,  it  was  as  one  in  a 
dream,  softly,  in  a  low,  strange,  monotonous  tone. 

"And  there  shall  be  no  more  singing  of  birds  at 
dawn;  no  more  droning  of  bees  in  the  sullen  noon; 
no  more  trilling  of  crickets  in  the  lonesome  night. 
And  there  shall  be  no  more  sunlight  I  Ah,  it  is  very 
beautiful  upon  the  crest  of  an  evening  cloud.  No 
more  rainfall  droning  dully  through  the  melancholy 
hours  of  the  night.  No  more  scent  of  green  things, 
sweetening  the  lazy  winds  of  afternoon.  No  more 
dreams — no  more  dreams!" 

His  voice  had  become  slower  and  softer. 

"No — more  dreams." 

He  remained  some  minutes  silent  and  motionless. 

"Let  us  go  out  into  the  sunlight  once  again.  Wat- 
ers," he  said  quietly.     And  they  went  out  together. 

They  reached  the  sandy  shore,  and  saw  the  good 
sunlight  sweep  the  glittering  waters.  In  their  men- 
tal state,  the  two  men  drank  in  the  generous  light 
as  though  it  had  but  lately  leapt  out  of  ancient  dark- 
ness. 

Waters  felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  fight  against 


1 84  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  inevitable  maddening  failure  of  the  old  man's 
dream. 

''Goin'  to  spoil  all  that,  Dad?"  he  said. 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  was  silent  for  some  mo- 
ments. 

"It  used  to  shine  like  that,"  he  said  at  length, 
with  a  melancholy  weariness  in  his  voice.  "It  used 
to  glitter  that  way  on  her  hair,  Waters  I  See !  where 
the  water  ripples  about  the  bar!" 

Then  he  continued  ramblingly  in  a  monotonous 
undertone.  "Will  it  be  all  dark?  Will  there  be  in- 
numerable centres  of  bodiless  intelligence  floating 
in  the  black  spaces,  yearning  for  light,  longing  for 
material  manifestation?  Or  only  blackness,  still- 
ness, blackness,  stillness?  Shall  the  ego  be  de- 
stroyed utterly,  or  live  and  remember?  Ah,  re- 
member light  and  sound,  and  yearn  for  them; 
sicken  with  an  eternal  home-ache !  What  if  there 
should  be  Something  dreadful  moving  in  the  dark- 
ness?   ohr 

The  exclamation  was  uttered  sharply  like  the  cry 
of  one  awakening  from  a  nightmare!  Ambrosen 
grasped  the  arm  of  Waters  convulsively. 

^^Did  you  see  anything?  Hear  anything?  What 
was  it?''  he  whispered,  his  whole  body  shaking  vio- 
lently. "Hold  my  hand.  Waters.  Fm  afraid! 
Afraid — of — nothing !" 

"You're  feelin'  wrong.  Dad,"  said  Waters  sooth- 
ingly.    "Caught  cold,  you  know." 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  185 

"Yes,  that's  it,  Waters;  because  nothing  really 
happened,  did  it.  Waters?" 

Waters  felt  a  chill  at  his  marrow.  He  tenderly 
stroked  the  forehead  of  the  old  man,  who  seemed 
to  waken  with  a  start. 

"Let's  walk  on  down  the  sand,"  said  Ambrosen, 
his  voice  growing  steady  again.  "Ah,"  he  solilo- 
quized, "I  am  striving  to  be  God  I  Egotism?  Of 
course.  That  is  the  secret  of  power.  It  is  the  vital 
principle  of  Nature.  Did  you  ever  see  a  rag-weed 
ashamed  to  grow  beside  a  rose  ?  The  shabbiest  blos- 
som believes  the  sun  exists  to  warm  its  petals.  It 
struggles  upward  among  the  oaks,  and  the  oaks — 
they  reach  for  the  stars !  If  there  should  exist  a 
God,  and  you  should  say  to  Him,  'Who  are  you?' 
God  would  answer,  'I  am  I'    It  is  the  vital  principle." 

Twice  the  two  approached  the  entrance  of  the  cav- 
ern. Twice  they  turned  back  into  the  sunlight.  The 
third  time  they  reached  the  entrance,  Ambrosen 
faltered. 

"Let  us  wait  until  the  west  darkens  for  the  last 
time,"  he  said.  And  they  waited,  silently  walking 
on  the  sunlit  sand. 

When  the  sun  had  slipped  beneath  the  western 
hills  and  the  darkness  had  crept  quietly  out  of  the 
East,  the  two  entered  the  cavern.  The  candles  in 
the  crevices  had  burned  to  their  sockets,  and  their 
odor  lingered  in  the  dark  like  the  bitter  memory  of 
a  dead  joy.     Both  were  silent,  and  Ambrosen  lead- 


i86  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

ing  with  the  candle  above  his  head,  trembled  vio- 
lently as  he  went. 

When  they  had  reached  the  smallest  harp  of  the 
series,  the  old  man  handed  the  candle  to  Waters. 

**Look  upon  light  for  the — last — time!"  he  said. 
Feeling  amid  the  maze  of  strings,  Ambrosen  placed 
his  fingers  upon  seven  of  them. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  said  to  Waters.  Waters 
did  not  answer. 

-Then " 

The  withered  fingers  trembled  impotently  upon 
the  unstricken  strings.  The  emaciated  body  of  the 
old  man  shook  as  with  an  ague.  He  staggered  and 
leaned  against  Waters.     His  voice  came  gaspingly. 

^'I—am—a—fraidr 

Waters  felt  a  strange  chill.  He  endeavored  to 
speak  calmly. 

"Le's  leave  these  here  moosical  instr'ments  and 
be  jest  men.  Dad;   come  on,  le's." 

"Fail  now!"  cried  the  old  man,  something  of  the 
god  welling  up  in  his  shrunken  form.  "Look  at 
me  I  I  have  toiled  upon  this  dream  until  a  faint 
wind  shakes  me  like  a  leaf  I  No  I  You  shall  strike 
the  chord!     You,  I  say!" 

Ambrosen's  eyes  blazed  into  the  eye  of  Waters, 
who  felt  a  strangeness  under  the  wild  gaze. 

"Yes,  Dad,"  he  said. 

"Here,"  said  the  old  man  excitedly.  "These  are 
the  strings!  Place  your  fingers  upon  the  strings — 
so.    There!" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  187 

Waters  did  as  he  was  commanded.  Ambrosen 
burled  his  face  In  his  arms. 

''Striker  he  cried. 

A  strange  wild  combination  of  notes  leaped  from 
the  strings ;  a  weird  chord  with  the  snarl  of  anger, 
the  cry  of  pain,  dominated  by  a  yearning  note  of  a 
world-old  grief.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  old  man's 
soul. 

The  supreme  hour  had  come. 

For  a  moment,  Ambrosen  stood  transfixed.  His 
eyes  glared  in  the  twilight  of  the  taper.  His  body 
was  straightened.  His  hands  were  clenched,  his 
jaws  set. 

Then  amid  the  reverberations  of  the  terrible 
chord,  the  old  man's  voice  was  raised  in  a  hoarse, 
choking  cry. 

''Listen!  It  is  done!  The  sun  is  shattering  into 
dust!  Can^t  you  hear  the  crackling ,  rending  sound? 
It  is  the  breaking  up  of  the  systems!  It  works! 
The  chord!'' 

Suddenly  the  light  died  in  the  old  man's  eyes. 
His  arms  relaxed  and  hung  limply.  His  head 
drooped.  He  staggered,  reeled,  and  sank  languidly 
to  the  floor  of  the  cavern. 

"It  works!"  he  muttered.  "The  chord  I  I 
have " 

The  voice  sank  into  a  rattle.  The  face  twitched 
slightly.  Waters  stooped  and  held  the  candle  near 
the  old  man's  face. 


1 88  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

There  was  now  not  the  slightest  twitching  of  the 
eyelids.     The  face  was  bloodless  and  haggard. 

"Dad!  Dad!"  cried  Waters  pleadingly.  'Wake 
up,  Dad,  and  we'll  clean  out'n  here  and  be  jest  men! 
Come  on,  Dad." 

Ambrosen  did  not  move. 

Waters  placed  his  hand  upon  the  old  man's  breast. 
The  heart  was  still.  He  grasped  the  languid  hands; 
they  were  rapidly  growing  cold. 

"Pore  ol'  man — pore  ol'  man." 


XVI 
The  Face  of  Death 

Waters  stooped  beside  the  languid  form  and  ten- 
derly grasping  the  emaciated  hands,  drew  the  arms 
across  his  shoulders.  He  staggered  to  his  feet,  and 
leaving  the  taper  where  It  sputtered  blue  upon  the 
damp  floor,  he  stumped  Into  the  darkness  that 
crushed  heavily  about  the  candle. 

He  shivered  nervously  as  he  walked,  his  shadow 
preceding  him,  huge,  vague,  dancing  hideously  as 
he  swayed  with  the  melancholy  weight  at  his  back. 
Having  reached  the  low  entrance  to  the  cavern,  he 
stooped,  dragged  the  body  through  the  aperture,  and 
clambered  with  his  burden  up  Into  the  log  hut.  He 
lit  a  candle,  and  laid  the  old  man  upon  the  couch. 
Then  he  sat  down  beside  the  quiet  form  and  waited 
for  the  day. 

"Pore  oV  man,"  he  muttered.  'Tou  hain't  never 
goln'  to  want  nothin'  no  more,  nor  have  no  more 
fits  'cause  you  can't  get  what  you  want.  You  wanted 
and  wanted  to  do  somethin'  or  other  for  over  twenty 
years,  but  nothin'  much  happened  'ceptin'  you  give 
out.     I  reckon  the  sun'U  come  up  all  right  in  the 

189 


I90  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

mornin'.  Crickets  are  all  singin'  yet.  Wind's 
blowin\  Stars're  shinin'.  Nothin'  don't  seem  to 
know  you're  dead  but  me.     Pore  ol'  man  I" 

He  stroked  the  straggling  gray  hairs  from  the 
cold  forehead,  and  gazed  with  dim  eye  into  the  hor- 
ribly haggard  face. 

"Wonder  how  you  do  feel,  pore  ol'  man.  Don't 
ache  no  more,  do  you?  Hain't  thirsty  nor  hungry 
nor  lonesome  nor  skeered,  nor  nothin'.  Jest  quiet 
and  done  fer;  hain't  you  that  away,  dad?" 

Waters  half  expected  to  see  the  lips  open  for  an- 
swer. The  night  wind  awakened  and  moaned  out- 
side, like  the  sigh  of  a  sleeper  who  has  bad  dreams. 

"Wonder  if  the  wind's  sorry.  Oh,  I  don't  reckon 
it  minds  much,"  muttered  Waters.  Then  he  sat 
quietly  for  an  hour  gazing  at  the  thing  before  him. 

Suddenly  in  his  lonesome  vigil,  he  was  aware  of  a 
soft  footstep  at  the  open  door  of  the  hut.  He 
looked  up  and  saw  his  wife  standing  in  the  doorway. 
The  night  wind  tossed  her  glorious  hair  about  her 
face.  Breathlessly  the  woman  gazed  with  her  eyes 
riveted  upon  the  silent  form  of  her  father.  With  a 
spasmodic  catching  of  the  breath,  she  cautiously  ap- 
proached the  couch.  She  leaned  over  and  gazed.  A 
deep  line  gathered  on  her  brow.  Her  eyes  con- 
tracted as  with  fear.  Her  arms  were  raised  and  her 
hands  clenched. 

"What  is  it?"  she  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Dead,"  said  Waters  quietly. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  191 

**How  dead?"  she  queried  plaintively;  ''as  a 
flower  dies  to  come  back  again  in  the  Spring?  Then, 
when  will  it  be  Spring?" 

"Dunno,"  answered  Waters,  hiding  his  face  in 
his  big  hands  to  conceal  tears. 

"No,"  said  the  woman,  "it  does  not  seem  that 
way." 

With  a  strange  mixed  expression  of  curiosity  and 
tenderness,  she  touched  the  forehead  of  Ambrosen, 
but  withdrew  her  hand  with  a  startled  cry. 

"Ah,  why  have  you  not  covered  him?  He  is 
coldr 

"Set  down,"  said  Waters;  "set  down  till  mornin* 
— mebbe " 

Then  again  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  When 
he  uncovered  his  face,  he  saw  by  the  faint  day  com- 
ing in  at  the  door,  the  woman  standing  over  the 
corpse,  gazing  curiously  upon  the  face  of  death. 
Her  face  during  the  night  had  grown  white  and  hag- 
gard.   There  was  a  strange  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Stay  here  till  I  come  back,"  said  Waters,  getting 
up  from  his  chair.  But  the  woman  gazed  steadily 
upon  the  mysterious  face  and  did  not  hear. 

Waters  went  out  into  the  early  dawn,  breathed  in 
deep  draughts  of  the  scented  air,  and  bathed  his 
face  in  the  dew  of  the  grass.  The  vast  kindness  in 
the  world  about  him  stimulated  his  shaken  nerves. 
He  went  back  into  the  hut.  The  woman  still  gazed 
upon  the  haggard,  discolored  face. 


192  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

As  Waters  entered  with  a  quiet  smile,  she  turned 
and  said  in  a  voice  that  was  a  ghost  of  her  full  rich 
voice:     *'He  has  not  wakened  yet!" 

"No/'  said  Waters,  "he's  done  for.  Look  at 
that/'  He  pointed  to  a  candle  upon  the  table  that 
had  burned  to  the  socket  during  the  long  night 
watch.  "That's  the  way  he  is;  burnt  clean  down 
to  the  end  of  the  wick  I  But  the  fire  hain't  dead; 
it's  only  left  'cause  the  wick  burnt  down.    That's  all." 

"Ah,"  she  said  in  a  weak  voice,  gazing  again 
upon  the  quiet  body;  "he  will  never  see  the  sun 
again?  Never  feel  the  wind  when  it  blows  sweet 
from  the  south?  Never  smell  the  perfume  of  flow- 
ers again?  Never  speak?  Never  hear?  It  seems 
strange  I  But,  maybe,  in  some  mysterious  way  he 
will  be  in  the  wind  when  it  blows  from  the  south; 
in  the  light  of  the  morning;  in  the  scent  of  the  flow- 
ers ;  in  the  silence  of  the  night.  And  maybe  I  shall 
hear  him  talking  in  the  crooning  of  the  leaves  or  in 
the  singing  of  birds.  Will  it  be  that  way,  do  you 
think?" 

"Yes,  little  woman,"  said  Waters  tenderly,  "some- 
thin'  like  that,  I  dunno.  You  better  go  back  to  your 
baby,  and  I'll  look  after  dad.  There,  don't  cry. 
See  how  quiet  his  face  is!  Quiet  and  white  as  the 
prairie  is  in  Winter.  Don't  cry,  'cause  I  guess  he's 
found  the  way  to  Spring  after  all.  Go  to  your 
baby  and  take  her  out  and  let  her  laugh  in  the  sun. 
When  I'm  ready,  I'll  call  you." 

She  went  out,  and  Waters  began  to  prepare  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  193 

body  for  its  long  sleep.  He  undressed  It  and  washed 
it  with  the  tenderness  of  a  woman  caring  for  a  sick 
child. 

"Pore  or  man/*  he  mused  half  aloud,  as  he 
worked  over  the  body.  "Fm  a-goin'  to  put  you  down 
there  with  your  books  and  your  harps,  'cause  you 
loved  'em  so  much.  Goin'  to  put  you  right  near 
your  playthings,  with  your  big  dream.  'Twasn't 
the  best  in  you  that  dreamed  that  dream  and  loved 
them  playthings.  It  was  only  your  pore  ol'  body 
that  loved  'em,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  put  'em  where  they 
can  be  together.  Pore  ol'  wrinkled  child  that  wanted 
too  much  I  Pore  ol'  man  1  I  guess  there's  all  kinds 
of  hints  for  a  feller.  He'd  ought  to  be  glad  for 
what  he  can  git,  and  not  want  too  much.  Pore  ol' 
man,  if  you'd  put  half  your  strength  on  makin' 
things  that  is,  better,  there'd  been  a  big  track  of 
sunlight  and  flowers  a-follerin'  you  through  the 
world.  But  I  don't  blame  you,  pore  ol'  man;  and 
It'll  be  all  right  with  you,  I  guess.    God's  so  big!" 

He  tenderly  stroked  the  hair  back  from  the  cold 
brow.    "There,  now,  sleep,  pore  ol'  man." 

Waters  went  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
and  hurried  to  his  home.  He  found  his  wife  sitting 
on  the  doorstep,  holding  her  child  In  her  arms,  and 
staring  with  unseeing  eyes  ahead  of  her  Into  the  sun- 
light. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "and  see  him  again." 

She  arose  and  followed  mechanically.  As  they 
entered  the  quiet  room  where  the  old  man  lay,  she 


194  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

shuddered  and  would  not  look  upon  his  face.  Wat- 
ers tenderly  lifted  the  emaciated  body  in  his  arms 
and  descended  with  it  into  the  cavern  through  the 
opening  in  the  floor  of  the  room. 

When  he  had  reached  the  subterranean  library, 
he  shuddered  at  the  sound  of  the  cave-draught  sigh- 
ing through  the  strings  of  the  giant  harps  in  the 
damp  and  dark.  It  was  like  the  wail  of  the  great 
dream  that  had  died. 

He  laid  the  old  man  upon  the  rocky  floor  and 
placed  a  large  volume  under  his  head;  an  ancient 
folio  over  which  the  dreamer  had  so  often  pored. 

"Good-bye,  dad,*'  whispered  Waters;  *'good- 
bye." 

As  he  hurried  out  of  the  place,  the  forlorn  wail 
of  the  many  strings  fled  after  him  out  of  the  dark- 
ness where  the  dead  lay.  When  he  had  reached  the 
room  again,  he  hurriedly  rolled  a  broad  flat  stone, 
which  the  old  man  had  shaped  for  a  covering,  across 
the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Then  he  turned  to  the  wo- 
man and  child.    She  lay  huddled  against  the  wall. 


XVII 

The  Thunder's  Voice 

That  night  Waters  sat  beside  the  bed  where  his 
young  wife  lay,  tossing  and  muttering  in  delirium. 
A  fitful  night  wind  arose  and  moaned  about  the 
hut.  It  blew  in  through  an  open  window,  and  made 
the  lamp  flame  smoke  and  sputter,  casting  dismal 
moving  shadows  through  the  room. 

A  nameless  fear  had  seized  Waters.  Would  she 
die,  too?  Where  would  he  go  then?  His  thoughts 
wandered  back  to  the  old  man,  and  he  shivered  with 
a  strange  cold. 

*Tore  ol'  man,"  he  mused;  "he  wanted  so  much, 
that  he  didn't  git  nothin'.  Wanted  to  bust  up  the 
whole  business,  and  wipe  it  out  like  a  boy  wipes 
figgers  off'n  a  slate.  Well,  mebbe  he  did;  mebbe 
everybody  does  when  they  quit  livin'.  I  don't  know. 
Wisht  I  did— wisht  I  did." 

Waters  leaned  over  the  bed  and  listened  intently 
for  the  breathing  of  the  sick  woman.  She  had  fallen 
into  a  deep  sleep. 

"Mebbe  she'll  sleep  it  off,"  he  muttered.  He  got 
up  and  went  to  the  door.     The  sky  was  covered 

195 


196  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

with  clouds,  moving  ponderously  northward,  driven 
by  a  damp  wind.  Somewhere  deep  in  the  dark  south 
the  thunder  rumbled,  and  the  forked  lightning  fol- 
lowed like  whips  after  the  flying  clouds.  The  smell 
of  the  coming  storm  oppressed  him,  and  gave  him  a 
dim  sense  of  impending  calamity. 

"God I  It's  lonesome!"  he  said  aloud.  He 
thought  again  of  the  old  man  lying  alone  among  his 
books,  with  the  wail  of  the  great  futile  dream  about 
him. 

A  heavy  hush  succeeded  a  long  roll  of  thunder. 
The  ominous  silence  was  torture  to  Waters'  tense 
nerves.  He  closed  the  door  with  a  strange  fear  of 
the  hush  out  in  the  shadows.  He  walked  lightly 
back  to  the  bed.  She  still  slept.  Her  face  was  paler 
than  it  should  have  been,  and  there  was  a  haggard 
look  about  her  eyes. 

Was  this  strange  calm  in  the  elements  and  about 
the  woman  he  loved,  but  a  forerunner  of  death? 
He  heard  his  heart  beating  strainedly  in  the  silence. 
He  had  an  appalling  sense  of  the  terrible  emptiness 
of  the  world.  He  felt  that  the  last  beautiful  thing 
was  slipping  out  of  his  weakened  grasp. 

Where  was  God?  Surely  if  there  was  a  God,  He 
could  hear  the  beating  of  a  heart  in  this  awful  hush. 

Suddenly  the  hush  and  the  dark  \^ere  shattered. 
A  wild  light  flashed  simultaneous  with  a  sharp 
crash  of  thunder.  It  seemed  like  an  answer  to  the 
silent  question  of  Waters.  Had  God  heard  the 
Strained  beating  of  the  heart? 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  197 

Perhaps  It  was  the  effect  of  the  sudden  shock; 
but  Waters  felt  a  sense  of  security  rushing  through 
his  veins,  steadying  him  as  many  a  drink  of  liquor 
had  done  in  the  old  bitter  days.  A  great  kindness 
toward  Something  big  and  powerful  dominated  him. 
He  took  the  child  in  his  arms  and  fell  upon  his  knees 
beside  the  sleeping  woman. 

**0  God,  did  you  say  somethin'  then?  Seems  like 
you  said  something  only  I  don't  seem  to  understand. 
What'd  you  say?  Did  you  say  I've  been  ornery  and 
deserved  somethin'  bad?  But  you  know  I  don't 
alius  go  to  be  ornery,  don't  you?  I  hain't  goin'  to 
ask  you  to  keep  her  for  me,  less  'n  you're  a  mind 
to.  But  I'm  goin'  to  be  different  with  you  from  now 
on.  I  don't  want  to  try  to  make  a  trade  with  you ; 
but  let  me  keep  her,  if  you  can,  'thout  hurtin'  your 
business  much.     Can't  you?" 

The  rush  of  the  wind,  the  driving  of  the  rain  and 
the  continuous  rumble  of  the  thunder  swallowed  up 
his  words  as  they  dropped  warmly  from  his  quiver- 
ing lips,  as  though  to  bear  them  somewhere  far  off 
where  they  would  reach  a  great  kind  Ear  In  the 
sunlight  and  the  calm. 

It  was  far  after  midnight  when  the  storm  died. 
During  its  fury  Waters  had  knelt  by  the  bed.  A 
lightness  of  heart  that  he  could  not  understand  had 
come  to  him. 

He  felt  a  stir  beside  him.  He  raised  his  head 
and  saw  his  wife  leaning  upon  her  arm  and  gazing 
with  calm  tired  eyes  upon  him. 


198  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"I  dreamed  about  sunlight,"  she  said  wearily. 
*'It  seemed  as  though  there  was  only  a  little  speck  of 
darkness,  and  it  was  swimming  in  a  great  warm  sea 
of  light.  And  then  after  awhile  the  speck  of  dark- 
ness faded  away,  and  there  was  only  sunlight.  I 
wonder  if  it  isn't  that  way." 

Waters'  ears  drank  in  the  sound  as  a  thirsty 
mouth  drinks  water.  It  was  as  though  music  had 
grown  up  out  of  the  night. 

"The  day  dies,"  she  continued  wearily,  "and  it 
comes  back  again  brighter  and  fresher.  Flowers 
die,  and  they  bloom  again.  But  while  I  was  asleep, 
it  seemed  I  learned  that  dying  is  only  another  kind 
of  Autumn  or  evening.  Does  your  wonderful  world 
know  this?" 

Waters  stroked  her  tangled  hair,  and  laid  her 
head  upon  the  pillow. 

"Some  know  it,"  he  said  with  a  soft  voice;  "the 
others  suffers.  Can't  you  sleep  some  more?"  He 
stroked  her  head  gently  until  she  slept  again  like  a 
tired  child. 

He  got  up  and  opened  the  door.  The  first  touch 
of  the  warm,  fresh  air  after  the  storm  was  like  a 
caress  to  him.  The  half  light  of  morning  was 
abroad.  In  the  East  the  dawn  heaved  a  flaming 
head  out  of  the  night  and  mist,  like  the  soul  of  a 
strong  man  struggling  dayward  out  of  the  dark. 

Waters  drew  a  deep  breath  that  thrilled  him  like 
an  elixir.     Was  it  because  the  morning  air  had 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  199 

changed,  that  he  felt  joy  in  the  very  act  of  breath- 


ing? 


He  looked  again  upon  the  sleeping  woman.  Her 
face  was  calm,  and  something  of  the  glow  of  health 
had  returned.    He  went  softly  out  into  the  new  day. 


XVIII 
The  Call  of  the  World 

Waters  strolled  on  through  the  soothing  air,  with 
a  great  peace  at  his  heart.  The  whole  world  had  a 
new  significance  for  him.  It  was  no  longer  a  place 
fit  only  for  wolves,  from  which  the  wolves  had  been 
driven.  It  was  to  him  the  abode  of  erring  beings, 
pitiable  for  their  failings. 

He  thought  of  the  old  time  wonderingly.  How 
blind  he  had  been !  A  new  beauty  was  in  the  morn- 
ing. Song  birds  sang  louder  and  sweeter.  He  no 
longer  felt  a  dread  of  remembering  the  tragic  pass- 
ing of  the  old  man.     It  seemed  right  somehow. 

Was  it  right  that  he  should  remain  hidden  in  the 
wilderness?  Should  he  conceal  this  new  light  from 
the  world?  For  it  seemed  so  new  to  Waters  that  he 
had  a  sense  of  absolute  ownership  by  right  of  discov- 
ery. After  these  many  feverish  years  of  bad,  might 
he  not  do  something  good?  Would  it  not  be  better 
to  go  back  to  Calhoun  and  live  down  his  old  life 
there  ?  And  then,  there  was  the  girl,  June.  Should 
she  not  be  taught  how  to  live  among  men  and  be 
pure? 

200 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  201 

Yes,  he  thought  he  should  go  back  to  Calhoun. 
He  could  surely  get  some  sort  of  employment.  He 
was  a  good  carpenter,  and  Omaha  City  was  growing 
rapidly;  he  could  get  work  there.  He  thought  of 
his  "bad"  eye  and  his  wooden  leg,  but  not  with  bit- 
terness. He  felt  a  strange  pride  in  them  now,  be- 
cause he  would  have  the  opportunity  to  show  how 
good  a  man  could  be  with  such  a  handicap.  In  the 
old  days  Waters  had  always  allowed  his  disfigure- 
ment to  justify  his  debauchery. 

As  he  walked  and  thought,  he  looked  up  and 
found  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  old  lightning-riven 
oak  which  Ambrosen  had  pointed  out  to  him  two 
days  before;  or  was  it  a  year — {ivt  years?  It 
seemed  longer  than  two  days. 

"Dig  here,  it  will  arm  you  against  the  world!" 
What  had  the  old  man  meant?  He  would  see.  He 
went  to  the  deserted  hut  to  get  a  spade.  How 
strange  it  seemed  that  bitterness  had  left  the  place. 
Now  he  felt  only  a  great  pity  for  the  old  man  whose 
dream  had  failed.  He  went  back  to  the  tree  and 
began  to  dig,  thinking  all  the  while  of  his  new  life 
that  was  just  beginning. 

The  striking  of  his  spade  against  something,  broke 
his  train  of  thought.  He  began  to  dig  with  renewed 
energy.  In  a  few  moments  he  had  uncovered  a 
strong  box.  Then  he  remembered  that  Ambroseil 
had  spoken  of  having  had  great  wealth  before  com- 
ing to  the  island.    Could  it  be ? 

With  great  effort  he  lifted  the  box  from  the  hole. 


302  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

It  was  very  heavy.  With  several  strokes  of  the 
spade  he  shattered  the  worm-eaten  top. 

The  box  was  filled  with  coins  I 

He  grasped  a  handful  and  stared  at  it  giddily. 
It  was  gold  I 

He  lifted  the  box  to  his  shoulder,  and  staggering 
with  the  weight,  he  hurried  to  the  house.  His  wife 
had  dressed  and  was  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  the 
bed  holding  the  child. 

Waters  dropped  the  box  upon  the  floor. 

"Seel"  he  cried.  "Look!  It's  money!  Thous- 
ands of  dollars.  We're  rich — rich !  We'll  go  back 
into  the  world  and  live!     Don't  you  see?    Look!" 

She  sat  unmoved  and  stared  at  the  box  of  coins. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said  languidly. 

"It's  money  1"  cried  Waters. 

"Money?"  she  said  softly  and  without  the  least 
agitation;   "what  is  money,  dear?" 

^^Moneyf^*  Waters  fairly  shrieked  the  magic 
name.  "Money?  W'y  money's  everything  in  the 
world  jammed  into  a  little  bunch  so's  you  kin  carry 
it  in  your  pocket  I  It  kin  do  anything  good  and  any- 
thing bad.  If  you're  hungry,  it'll  feed  you;  if 
you're  sick,  it'll  take  care  of  you  I  If  you've  got  it, 
men'U  woller  in  the  dust  for  you;  and  if  you  hain't 
got  it,  you'll  woller  in  the  dust  for  them !  It's  every- 
thing!" 

"Everything?"  she  queried  wonderingly.  "It 
must  be  very  wonderful!" 

She  laid  the  child  upon  the  bed,  and  cautiously 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  203 

approached  the  magic  heap.  She  stooped  and 
grasped  a  handful  of  it.  With  knit  brows  she  exam- 
ined it  carefully. 

*'It  is  pretty,"  she  said  na'ively.  "It  has  a  great 
bird  upon  one  side  and  the  bird  is  singing,  I  think." 

"No,"  said  Waters,  smiling  at  the  woman's  curios- 
ity;   "  'tain't  singin';   jest  clawin'." 

"Ah,  and  it  has  a  woman's  picture  on  the  other 
side,"  she  continued,  half  in  glee;  "a  great,  kind, 
strong  woman ;  I  think  she  would  be  very  beautiful 
walking  in  the  sunlight." 

"That's  Mrs.  Liberty,"  mused  Waters  half  aloud; 
"but  she  don't  walk  about  much;  stays  pretty  clost 
to  her  money  most  always." 

"Ah,  seel  It  says  In  God  We  Trust  at  the  topi 
Then  the  great  world  trusts  in  the  God  of  sunlight 
and  bird-song  and  wind  just  the  same  as  I  do  here?" 

"Some  of  'em  does,"  sighed  Waters;  "most  of 
'em  trusts  in  the  money." 

"Ah,  then  it  must  be  very  wonderful.  Make  it  do 
something,  dear.  Let  me  see  it  do  something,  won't 
you?  Why  did  you  not  get  it  before  and  have  it 
keep  him  with  us?" 

"W'y,  you  don't  get  what  I  mean,"  said  Waters 
excitedly;  "it  can't  dance  a  jig,  but  it  can  make  folks 
dance  'em.  It  can't  walk  and  it  can't  swim  and  It 
can't  talk  nor  nothin',  but  it  can  make  folks  do  'em 
all  to  onct  if  that'll  make  'em  own  it.  Men  fights 
for  it  and  folks  dies  for  it  when  they  can't  get  none 
of  it." 


204  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

*'It  is  wonderful/*  she  said  with  the  marvel  of  a 
child.    "Where  did  you  get  it?" 

*'I  dug  it  up,"  said  Waters,  hopeless  of  explaining. 

*'Why  doesn't  the  big  world  dig  it  up?"  she 
queried,  gazing  at  Waters  with  wide  questioning 
eyes. 

^'That's  all  they're  tryin'  to  do  all  the  time,"  said 
Waters.  "They're  horned  diggin',  and  they  die 
diggin'." 

"Tell  me  everything  about  this  great  wonderful 
world  that  lives  for  these  magic  things,  dear." 

"I  can't,"  said  Waters.  "It's  too  big.  We'll  go 
and  live  there  and  then  you'll  know.  But  we  won't 
make  folks  woUer  in  the  dust  with  our  money. 
We'll  help  'em  git  off'n  their  bellies,  and  stand  up 
and  be  good." 

"Oh,  I  do  want  to  see  this  big  world!  It  must  be 
very  good  and  beautiful,"  said  the  woman. 

"God,  He  made  it  that  a-way,  but  there's  some 
folks  as  didn't  want  to  leave  it  that  a-way,"  said 
Waters. 


PART  THREE 
THE  BIG  WORLD 

I 

The  Grocery  Store 

Sylvanus  Coppers  was  the  proprietor  of  the  Green 
Tree  Grocery  Store  of  Fort  Calhoun.  He  was  a  little 
wiry  man,  whose  fifty-odd  years  had  slipped  harm- 
lessly off  his  body  to  leave  their  record  wholly  upon 
his  face.  His  features,  which  had  always  been 
small,  had  shrunken  to  a  leathery  minimum.  This, 
however,  applied  only  to  the  breadth  of  his  nose, 
which  managed  to  creep  out  from  the  narrow  space 
between  his  small  gray  eyes,  and  extended  bravely 
for  a  considerable  distance  into  the  world,  but  ended 
in  a  melancholv  droop  at  the  end.  This  conspicuous 
but  faint-hearted  feature  had  a  timid  air  of  alert- 
ness about  it,  as  though  it  were  always  nervously 
expectant  of  some  ominous  smell;  and  one  observ- 
ing it  for  the  first  time,  half  expected  at  any  moment 
to  see  it  turn  like  a  scared  thing,  and  run  in  a  panic 
back  into  the  head  with  some  horrible  scent  in  close 
pursuit.     Mr.  Coppers  wore  side-burns,  worthy  of 

205 


2o6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

their  name,  for  they  burned  a  dull  red  flame  upon 
the  sides  of  his  face,  and  added  much  to  the  alert 
atmosphere  that  the  nose  contributed  to  the  facial 
ensemble.  His  ears  stood  out  from  his  head  rather 
conspicuously.  They  also  added  to  the  whole  ex- 
pression of  alertness;  for  they  seemed  waiting  with 
a  mixture  of  boldness  and  timidity  for  some  sudden 
sound. 

It  was  the  habit  of  Coppers  when  he  was  thinking 
(a  process  for  which  he  felt  himself  admirably  fit) 
to  stroke  his  nose  with  a  forefinger  and  thumb,  and 
comb  his  side-burns  with  his  bony  fingers.  This 
morning  in  August  he  paced  up  and  down  his  dingy 
store,  stroking  his  nose  with  his  left  hand,  and  a 
side-burn  with  his  right,  which  double  sign  indicated 
that  Mr.  Coppers'  brain  was  doing  an  unusual 
amount  of  work. 

The  Green  Tree  Grocery  Store  had  a  significance 
deeper  than  canned  goods,  and  more  expansive  than 
prunes.  It  was  not  simply  a  place  for  sordid  bar- 
gains; it  was  an  emporium  of  ideas.  The  unem- 
ployed intellectuality  of  Calhoun  was  wont  to  gather 
there,  and  exchange  items  of  vital  news  and  opinions 
of  grave  moment.  The  Trumpet,  blowing  only  at 
intervals  of  a  week,  always  found  itself  miserably 
"scooped.''  Before  It  came  out,  the  most  recent 
sensation  had  been  relegated  to  ancient  history  by 
the  convention  at  the  grocery  store.  This  institu- 
tion had  long  since  established  Its  position  as  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  207 

ablest  exponent  of  current  opinion,  and  Mr.  Syl- 
vanus  Coppers,  with  his  nose  ever  ready  to  smell, 
his  ears  ever  extended  to  hear,  and  his  lips  ever 
quivering  to  speak,  might  have  been  aptly  called 
the  Editor-in-Chief.  This  sultry  morning  in  August 
he  felt  a  sense  of  depression,  for  the  cause  of  which 
the  heat  was  wholly  inadequate. 

Something  startling  had  happened — and  the  con- 
vention had  failed  to  assemble  I  He  was  seriously 
considering  the  advisability  of  locking  his  store,  and 
going  in  search  of  the  assembly,  when  matters 
brightened  up  a  bit.  Mohammed  was  relieved  of 
going  to  the  mountain;  the  mountain  came  to  Mo- 
hammed. 

In  through  the  front  door,  puffing  and  perspiring, 
waddled  Mrs.  Griggs  with  her  two  hundred  comfort- 
able pounds  and  her  round,  anxious  face 

*'Well,  well,  good  morning,  Mrs.  Griggs  I**  said 
Coppers,  rubbing  his  hands  together,  an  act  of  pre- 
liminary conciliation  that  always  foreran  a  sale  of 
goods.  "How  are  you  this  hot  morning?  Children 
well,  I  presume?" 

Mrs.  Griggs  beamed  pleasantly  and  answered 
puffingly. 

"Well,  folks  shouldn't  complain,  I  always  say, 
Mr.  Coppers,  even  if  it  is  work,  work,  work.  I  de- 
clare Tve  been  on  the  trot  shameful  for  the  last 
week,  and  now  comes  that  quiltin*  bee  for  Hank  and 
Sary.    But  Fm  not  complalnin'  about  that,  although 


2o8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Hank  ain't  hardly  worth  us  a-slavin'  our  lives  away 
makin'  kivers  for  the  likes  of  him!  But  Sary's  a 
good,  hard-workin'  girl,  and  we  felt  as  if  we'd  ought 
to  do  somethin'  for  'em,  she  bein'  in  the  church  and 
singin'  so  sweet  in  the  choir.  It's  really  the  Lord's 
work  after  all,  Mr.  Coppers,"  said  Mrs.  Griggs 
with  a  sudden  acquisition  of  facial  devoutness. 
"And  a  body  owes  so  much  to  Him,  you  know.  I 
wanted  to  get  some  yarn  for  tyin'  the  comforters. 
I  J^clare  it's  money,  money,  money  all  the  time!" 

Mr.  Coppers  produced  several  skeins  of  yarn, 
but,  strangely  enough,  forgot  to  sing  his  usual  song 
of  praise  over  the  article,  which  always  began: 
"Very  cheap  at  the  price;  direct  from  the  factory; 
no  middle-man  profit." 

^^Haven^t  you  heard  about  Waters  comin'  back?" 
he  said,  oblivious  of  the  imminent  sale. 

"Waters!"  Mrs.  Griggs  gasped  in  horror.  ^^He 
come  back.  That  miserable,  one-eyed,  wooden- 
legged  sot?  Well,  do  tell!  What'll  happen  next? 
Thought  the  town  had  got  shut  of  him!  I  suppose 
Mrs.  Sprangs  '11  be  oglin'  round  him  like  she  did  be- 
fore he  left,  now  since  Sprangs  died  last  year  of 
slavin'  his  life  away  for  her  out  in  the  gold  mines!" 

"He's  brought  a  wife  back  with  him !"  Mr.  Cop- 
pers dropped  this  sentence  like  a  bomb.  Mrs. 
Griggs  gasped  again. 

"A  wife?  What  sort  of  a  woman  could  she  be  to 
go  marryin'  the  likes  of  him  ?    Poor  thing !     Maybe 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  209 

she  didn't  know."  Mrs.  Griggs'  face  became  the  pic- 
ture of  commiseration. 

"They're  stayin'  at  Sprangses.  Come  last  night 
on  the  Lucy.  They  say  Waters  is  worth  all  sorts  of 
money !  Captain  of  the  boat  said  Waters  discovered 
immense  wealth  in  an  Island  up  the  river!" 

Mrs.  Griggs'  face  softened. 

"Well,  well,  I  reckon  it's  us  women-folks'  duty  to 
go  and  see  Mrs.  Waters.  Wrap  up  that  skein — the 
yeller  one — Mr.  Coppers.  Ten  cents,  you  say? 
Well,  Mr.  Griggs'll  settle  when  his  boat  gets  back 
from  the  trip." 

Mrs.  Griggs  took  her  parcel  from  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Coppers  and  hurried  out  into  the  August  glare. 
Coppers'  spirits  fell  from  their  temporary  elevation, 
as  his  little  gray  eyes  followed  the  waddling  figure 
up  the  street.  It  was  positively  torturing  to  him — 
this  terrible  quiet  at  a  time  when  so  much  might  be 
said.  As  he  was  again  about  to  lock  his  door  and  go 
in  pursuit  of  the  sensation,  a  bunch  of  men  came 
hurriedly  up  the  street  from  the  direction  of  the 
river,  and  entered  the  store. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen;  good  morning,  sirs  I" 
Coppers  cried  excitedly.     "What's  the  news?" 

"Waters  is  back!"  ejaculated  the  foremost,  as  he 
threw  himself  puffing  Into  a  chair. 

"I  knowed  It!"  Coppers  felt  the  least  resentment 
when  anyone  presumed  to  tell  him  news.  His  ques- 
tion was  always  given  in  the  nature  of  a  plummet 


2IO  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

to  sound  the  depths  and  shallows  of  the  public's  in- 
formation. It  was  meant  to  be  simply  a  small  pre- 
lude to  his  own  song. 

"He  brought  a  wife  with  him — and  a  baby!" 
added  one. 

"Hml    Iknowedit!" 

**And  he's  rollin'  richr*  exclaimed  the  most  reti- 
cent of  them  all,  in  a  tone  that  accompanies  a  clinch- 
ing statement. 

"I  knowed  that,  tooP^  Coppers'  little  gray  eyes 
twinkled  with  self-congratulation. 

'*We  just  come  back  from  the  buffet  that  he  used 
to  run  and  we  seen  him " 

"You  did?"  Coppers'  self-congratulation  was 
swallowed  up  in  curiosity. 

"Seen  him  go  into  the  buffet " 

"And  drink  a  gallon  of  liquor!"  added  Coppers, 
again  resuming  his  self-congratulatory  air. 

"No,  sir!  Seen  him  roll  the  kegs  out  one  to  a 
time  and  bust  'em  with  a  axe,  and  pour  it  out  onto 
the  sand!" 

Coppers  gasped  and  wilted  into  a  chair.  "The 
deuce  he  did!" 

"That's  what  he  done!" 

"Well,  I  do  say!  'Tain't  like  him!  Seen  his 
wife?"  Coppers  leaned  forward,  braced  against 
the  probable  worst.  "I  didn't  get  down  to  the  boat 
till  they  was  gone,"  he  added,  by  way  of  explaining 
his  woeful  lack  of  intelligence  in  the  matter.  "They 
wasn't  nobody  to  stay  at  the  store,  you  know." 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  211 

"Seen  her?  Yes,  sir  I  But  you  can't  be  sure 
you've  seen  her  when  you  have.  She  ain't  like  com- 
mon women  folks.  She's  more  like  a  picture  of 
somethin'  you've  dreamp  about.  Long  kind  of  yel- 
ler,  kind  of  red  hair.  Looked  like  fire  in  the  boat's 
light;  but  when  she  got  into  the  moonlight,  looked 
like  water  runnin'  in  a  starry  night."  The  speaker 
hesitated  as  he  brought  back  to  himself  the  vivid 
picture.  The  eager  assembly  breathed  hard.  "But 
the  funniest  actin'  thing  you  ever  see,"  continued  the 
speaker;  "snivelled  and  hung  on  to  Waters  like  a 
young'n — 'cause  we  was  a-follerin'  her,  I  guess." 

"Where'd  he  get  her?"  asked  Coppers,  now  cast- 
ing off  his  entire  burden  of  self-congratulation,  the 
better  to  pursue  the  flying  sensation. 

"Nobody  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  gather,"  replied 
the  spokesman. 


II 

Mrs.  Griggs'  Call 

When  Mrs.  Griggs  left  the  Green  Tree  Grocery 
Store,  she  felt  a  sense  of  exhilaration  in  spite  of  the 
hot  day.  If  there  was  one  thing  in  the  world  Mrs. 
Griggs  needed,  it  was  sensation.  Perhaps  this  was 
due  to  her  undeniable  habit  of  being  busy.  She 
prided  herself  upon  her  industry  throughout  the 
devious  ways  of  domesticity,  from  baking  superior 
bread  to  weaning  precocious  babies.  She  had  a  con- 
tinual longing  to  see  things  go,  that  amounted  to 
mania ;  and  when  the  course  of  events  dwindled  into 
a  listless  singsong,  Mrs.  Griggs  temporarily  lost 
her  grip  on  life. 

The  recrudescence  of  Waters  made  Mrs.  Griggs* 
long-weary  spirit  prick  up  its  figurative  ears,  as  must 
have  done  the  scriptural  horse  that  sniffed  the  battle 
from  afar  and  **cried  ha-ha  to  the  trumpets." 

Yes,  indeed,  she  assured  herself  as  she  waddled 
and  puffed  through  the  scorching  dust  toward  her 
home,  it  was  clearly  the  duty  of  the  women-folks 
to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Waters.  Folks  shouldn't  con- 
demn the  wife  for  the  failings  of  the  husband.  Folks 

212 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  213 

should  have  charity.  Goodness  knew  I  Most  wo- 
men would  be  mighty  lonesome  if  folks  visited  them 
because  they  had  good  husbands!  She  would  go 
that  afternoon.  And  Into  the  idea  of  neighborly 
duty  crept  the  least  shade  of  premeditated  glory, 
as  she  thought  of  what  she  could  tell  the  folks  that 
night  at  Sary^s  quilting  bee. 

At  half  past  two,  clad  In  her  best  calico  and  a  dis- 
tinguished air,  radiant  in  a  carefully  ironed  pink 
sunbonnet  and  a  spotless  apron,  she  knocked  at  Mrs. 
Sprangs'  front  door.  Mrs.  Sprangs  greeted  her 
neighbor  cordially.  The  lines  of  her  face,  always 
motherly  and  sympathetic,  were  deepened  with  care. 

Anything  not  totally  Imperceptible  was  perceptible 
to  Mrs.  Griggs. 

"Well,  well,  Mrs.  Sprangs,  youVe  lookin'  like  you 
was  more'n  half  sick  I  Seein'  as  how  I  got  my  bakin' 
and  scrubbin'  and  ironin'  did  up,  and  the  children's 
clothes  mended,  not  to  mention  the  runnin'  about  I 
done  to  get  things  for  the  quiltin'  bee,  I  thought  I'd 
drop  in  on  you  awhile.  You've  had  a  heap  enough 
of  trouble,  goodness  knows,  with  Sprangs  goln'  be- 
fore, and  that  boy  of  your'n,  without  bein'  called  on 
to  take  in  strangers.  And  it's  tellin'  on  you,  Mrs. 
Sprangs  I  You  mark  my  word,  you'll  be  follerin' 
your  man  before  long,  if  you  don't  get  shut  of  your 
worries  somehow.  Us  women  folks  has  a  mighty 
hard  time  of  It.  Work,  work,  work  I  And  meechin' 
little  we  ever  get  for  it  I  I  declare,  I  get  so  through- 
other  thinkin'  about  It  sometimes  I" 


214  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Mrs.  Griggs  often  found  it  necessary  to  go  more 
or  less  extensively  into  word  coinage  to  express  the 
woes  of  life. 

Mrs.  Sprangs  allowed  the  silence  to  settle  before 
remarking  that  the  weather  was  very  hot,  and  she 
did  hope  it  would  rain. 

**Oh,  goodness  gracious,  no!  Don't  have  it  rain, 
for  pity's  sake!"  cried  the  silently  suffering  Mrs. 
Griggs,  with  horror  in  her  fat-obstructed  eyes. 
"Think  of  the  mud  the  children  'd  bring  in  onto  my 
nice  clean  floor  I  just  scrubbed  and  nearly  broke  my 
back  a-scrubbin'  it  I  A  body  can  sweep  dust,  gracious 
knows;    but  mudT* 

Mud  was  sudden  death.  Mrs.  Griggs'  expression 
proved  it. 

"Are  they  here  now?"  asked  Mrs.  Griggs  in  a 
subdued  voice,  switching  the  conversation  to  things 
vital. 

"You  mean  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Waters?"  said  Mrs. 
Sprangs.  "Mr.  Waters  and  Henry  went  to  the 
printing  office  together.  The  boy  thinks  so  much 
of  Mr.  Waters.  I  declare  all  the  time  Mr.  Waters 
was  gone,  the  boy  hardly  whistled  once." 

"I'd  be  careful  about  a  boy  of  mine  and  his  com- 
p'ny,  Mrs.  Sprangs,"  reproved  Mrs.  Griggs.  "I 
always  wondered  at  you  a-lettin'  him  run  with  that — 
well,  with  a  immoral  man." 

"I  did  worry  about  that  before,  but  Mr.  Waters 
is  so  different  now.     He  doesn't  drink  any  more. 


THE   DAWN-BUILDER  215 

and  he  was  always  so  kind  to  the  boy,"  said  Mrs. 
Sprangs,  and  Mrs.  Griggs  sighed  as  one  who  knew 
and  could  speak  if  she  would. 

**But  Mrs.r^  urged  Mrs.  Griggs;  "I  come  part 
to  get  acquainted  with  her." 

*'She's  in  the  bedroom  putting  her  baby  to  sleep." 

"Do  have  her  come  out,  Mrs.  Sprangs,  and  bring 
the  baby.    If  there^s  anything  I  do  like,  it's  babies." 

"Well,  I'll  call  her." 

Mrs.  Griggs'  two  hundred  pounds  quivered  with 
anticipation  as  she  waited  for  the  sensation  to  de- 
velop. Presently  Mrs.  Sprangs  returned  from  the 
bedroom  leading  by  the  hand  a  woman  who  clung 
timorously  to  her.  Mrs.  Waters  was  of  middle 
height  and  slender.  Her  dress  of  calico,  unable  en- 
tirely to  conceal  her  symmetry  of  form,  would  have 
been  unnoticed  upon  many  a  figure,  but  was  gro- 
tesque upon  hers.  It  was  as  if  some  prude  had  dared 
to  clothe  a  sculptured  Diana. 

As  the  sensation  reached  its  climax,  Mrs.  Griggs 
gasped  wide-mouthed  and  wide-eyed. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Griggs,  Mrs.  Waters,"  said  Mrs. 
Sprangs  in  her  gentle  way. 

"Very  happy  to  meet  you,"  gasped  Mrs.  Griggs, 
arising  stiffly,  surrounded  by  her  "company"  atmos- 
phere. 

Mrs.  Waters  smiled  a  sweet,  trusting  smile,  and 
approaching  Mrs.  Griggs,  she  placed  her  arms  about 
the  woman's  neck  and  kissed  the  ample  perspiring 


2i6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

cheek.  Mrs.  Griggs  was  a  woman  of  dignity.  She 
recoiled  as  though  she  had  been  bitten  by  a  snake, 
and  stared  coldly  at  this  most  startling  acquaintance. 

Mrs.  Waters  shrank  back  to  Mrs.  Sprangs,  cling- 
ing to  her  as  a  protector.  After  a  breathless  mo- 
ment of  horror,  Mrs.  Griggs  managed  to  hang  a 
faded  rag  of  a  smile  upon  her  perspiring  counten- 
ance, which  was  answered  by  a  returning  smile  from 
the  momentarily  startled  Mrs.  Waters. 

**Well,  Mrs.  Waters,  how  are  you  beginning  to 
like  the  town?"  began  Mrs.  Griggs,  endeavoring  to 
drag  the  conversation  into  a  comfortable  channel. 
Mrs.  Waters  gazed  questioningly  into  the  little  fat 
eyes. 

"I  say,  how  do  you  like  livin'  here  by  this  time, 
though  you  hain't  only  just  come?"  persisted  Mrs. 
Griggs. 

"I  wonder  why  they  cut  all  the  trees  down  and 
drove  the  birds  away,"  answered  Mrs.  Waters,  with 
the  light  of  home-longing  in  her  eyes,  and  a  slight 
nervous  tremor  in  her  musical  voice.  Mrs.  Griggs 
stared  aghast. 

"Mrs.  Waters  has  always  lived  in  an  island  in  the 
upper  Missouri,"  explained  Mrs.  Sprangs;  "it's 
hard  for  her  to  get  used  to  the  prairie,  I  think." 

"Well,  well,  I  declare!  In  an  island?  It  must 
have  been  terrible  lonesome.  What  on  earth  did 
you  do  when  you  wanted  to  talk  to  somebody?  I 
always  think  I'd  just  bust  sometimes  if  I  didn't  un- 
burden my  soul  to  somebody,"  said  Mrs.   Griggs; 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  217 

and  the  expression  of  her  face  bore  witness  that  she 
was  fully  aware  of  how  horrible  such  a  catastrophe 
would  be.     ''What  on  earth  did  you  do?" 

"I  talked  to  the  birds,  and  listened  to  the  wind 
and  the  river  singing.  And  I  sang  to  Apollo  in  the 
morning  and  the  evening;   I  was  so  happy  then." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Griggs  triumphantly. 
"Then  there  was  a  young  man  there  all  the  time!" 

"My  father  was  there — and  God,"  answered 
Mrs.  Waters  with  a  troubled,  questioning  face.  "Is 
God  here?     I  have  not  felt  him." 

Mrs.  Griggs  gasped  and  pushed  her  chair  back 
from  an  imaginary  zone  of  contamination. 

"Wy?  Mrs.  Waters !  You  sur-prise  me !  God  is 
^'u^r^'-where  I  He  lives  in  our  breasts !"  And  Mrs. 
Griggs  placed  her  hand  upon  that  ample  abode  of 
deity. 

"What  church  do  you  worship  in,  if  any,  Mrs. 
Waters?"  Mrs.  Griggs  was  hot  upon  the  scent  of 
the  new  sensation. 

"Church?" 

"Where  did  you  go  to  talk  to  God?"  explained 
Mrs.  Griggs  condescendingly. 

"Anywhere,"  answered  the  beautiful  heathen, 
with  the  troubled  expression  increased.  "In  the 
still  night  out  under  the  stars;  at  the  burning  of  the 
dawn;  in  the  quiet  evening;  in  the  thunder-storms 
and  when  the  snow  wailed  through  the  bare 
branches.     Does  not  everyone  do  so?" 

Mrs.  Griggs  suddenly  felt  that  the  zone  of  con- 


ai8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

tamlnatlon  had  widened,  and  she  hurriedly  slid  her 
chair  backward. 

*'W'y,  goodness  me!  How  you  do  talk!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "All  decent  folks  worships  their  God  and 
Savior  of  a  Sunday.  They  go  to  the  House  of  the 
Lord  and  beg  forgiveness  for  their  miserable  sins!" 

Mrs.  Waters  passed  a  hand  across  her  brow,  as  if 
endeavoring  to  brush  something  away.  Her  eyes 
became  large  with  wonder,  and  a  troubled  light  went 
across  her  face. 

"Do  they  keep  God  in  a  house?"  she  said  simply. 

"I  must  be  a-goin',  Mrs.  Sprangs,"  said  Mrs. 
Griggs,  rising  hurriedly.  "It's  no  tellin'  what  them 
children  '11  be  trackin'  in  on  my  nice  clean  floor  be- 
fore I  get  back." 

And  she  waddled  precipitately  to  the  door. 


Ill 

The  Old  Time  Clings 

When  Mrs.  Griggs  had  gone,  Mrs.  Waters, 
haunted  with  a  new  fear,  went  Into  her  room  and, 
lying  down,  burled  her  face  In  the  pillows.  It  was 
the  Instinct  of  the  wild  animal  that  hides  In  its  den 
when  It  is  frightened.  She  thought  longingly  of  her 
old  haunts;  of  the  peaceful  starlit  nights;  of  the 
long,  quiet,  droning  days  of  Summer;  of  the  song 
of  bird  and  wind  and  river.  She  tried  to  imagine 
herself  untroubled  as  of  old,  dreaming  golden 
dreams  In  some  shady  nook  or  bathing  in  the  great 
spring.  But  ever  through  the  dreams,  she  saw  the 
face  of  Mrs.  Griggs  like  the  face  of  a  nightmare, 
blotting  out  the  scenes  ot  peace.  To  her,  Mrs. 
Griggs  was  the  embodied  spirit  of  the  great  new 
world  which  she  had  thought  would  be  as  kind  and 
beautiful  as  It  was  great;  and  she  wept  softly  as  a 
child  who  wakes  from  a  bad  dream  when  all  the 
house  is  hopelessly  dark  and  still. 

The  foundations  of  her  life  had  fallen  away. 
Everything  seemed  out  of  proportion;  grotesque 
as  the  world  of  delirium.    It  was  as  though  she  had 

219 


220  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

gone  to  gaze  in  the  great  spring,  formerly  so  clear 
and  quiet,  and  had  found  its  surface  troubled,  dis- 
torting her  own  image  hideously.  Her  child  lay 
asleep  beside  her.  She  took  it  into  her  arms  and 
held  it  very  close  to  her  face.  In  all  the  unreality 
of  things,  this  one  seemed  real.  It  was  like  touching 
an  incarnate  memory  of  the  old  quiet  life  that  was 
dead. 

Her  thoughts  wandered  longingly  back  to  him 
who  lay  in  the  wilderness.  How  lonesome  it  must 
be  there,  she  thought,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  that 
mystic  Springtime,  infinitely  further  away  than 
April  and  not  to  be  understood.  And  yet  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  longed  for  such  a  sleep. 
Even  the  gentle  words  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  were  una- 
vailing. When  Waters  returned,  he  found  her  cry- 
ing softly. 

"I  thought  the  great  world  would  be  so  kind  and 
beautiful,"  she  said  to  him.  "Oh,  it  is  so  ugly  and 
so  sad." 

"Don't  cry,"  he  said,  stroking  her  forehead 
gently.  "It  '11  get  beautifuller  afterwhile,  when  you 
git  used  to  it.  It  means  to  be  beautiful,  I  guess; 
but  it  fergits  how  sometimes." 

"Why  do  they  keep  God  in  a  house?"  she  asked 
wonderingly.  "He  lived  everywhere  in  the  old  days. 
I  think  that  was  why  the  world  was  so  beautiful 
there." 

"Don't  worry,  dear,"  he  said,  "I  guess  they  don't 
keep  much  of  Him  in  a  house."     Under  the  gentle 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  221 

touch  of  Waters'  hand  she  fell  asleep.  He  arranged 
her  hair  about  her  head,  and  tenderly  gazed  upon 
her  face,  now  smiling  faintly  with  some  pleasant 
dream. 

''She's  up  in  the  Island,  I  guess,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Sprangs;   "wonder  if  I'd  ought  to  took  her  away?" 

When  they  had  reached  the  sitting  room.  Waters 
sat  down  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Had  he 
done  wrong  in  bringing  her  Into  a  world  that  she 
could  never  understand?  She  would  have  been  happy 
there.  Was  he  not  selfish  in  bringing  her?  Was  it 
only  a  desire  to  flaunt  his  new  wealth  before  the 
world  that  had  made  him  do  it?  No,  It  really  was 
not  that.  He  thought  of  the  thunder-storm  in  the 
night  after  the  old  man  died.  Was  it  not  then  that 
he  had  heard  the  Voice  that  changed  him? 

Had  he  not  come  back  to  the  world  he  had  left 
so  shamefully,  that  he  might  do  good  where  before 
he  had  done  only  evil?  How  could  he  do  good  If  he 
made  her  suffer?  Well,  he  would  do  all  the  good 
he  could,  and  then  if  she  did  not  learn  the  strange 
new  life,  he  would  take  her  back. 

All  day  he  had  been  planning  ways  of  doing  good. 
He  had  thought  of  beginning  by  sending  Specks  to 
school;    that  would  be  a  start. 

*'Mrs.  Sprangs,"  he  said  at  length.  ''I've  been 
thinkin'  all  day  about  the  boy.  He  was  my  first 
crony,  and  he  didn't  hate  me  'cause  I  was  ugly  and 
mean.    Don't  you  think  he'd  ought  to  go  to  school?" 

"I've  been  wanting  to  send  him  this  long  time," 


222  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

said  Mrs.  Sprangs,  "but  I  couldn't  see  how  it  was  to 
be  done.  What  Sprangs  left  us  is  barely  enough  to 
keep  things  up." 

"Well,  you  see/'  began  Waters,  and  ended  in  em- 
barrassment. Instinctively  he  felt  in  his  pocket  for 
his  pipe,  although  he  did  not  smoke  now;  for  it 
seemed  that  this  moment  was  simply  a  continuation 
of  that  other  time  when  he  had  driven  himself  to 
ask  to  help  Mrs.  Sprangs,  and  had  been  able  to  come 
to  the  point  only  when  his  face  was  hidden  in  a  cloud 
of  smoke.  Finding  no  pipe,  he  turned  his  face  to  the 
window,  and  looked  out  into  the  dusk  of  evening 
closing  slowly  in  about  a  patch  of  amber  sky.  Why 
did  he  feel  this  strange  embarrassment  in  her  pres- 
ence ?  Was  not  the  old  time  dead,  with  all  its  mid- 
night dreams  of  sunrise?  Had  not  day  come?  Or 
was  it  because  a  man,  once  having  experienced  love 
for  a  good  woman,  finds  evolved  within  him  an  im- 
personal love  for  the  idea  in  universal  womanhood, 
deeper  than  the  heat  of  blood  and  purer  than  any 
desire? 

It  was  with  a  new  tenderness  upon  his  face  and  a 
new  softness  in  his  voice,  that  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Sprangs. 

"Well,  you  see,  I've  got  more  money  than  I  de- 
serve to  have;  it  ain't  mine,  'cause  I  didn't  give 
nothin'  for  it.  If  I  spent  it  all  on  myself  I'd  feel 
like  a  thief.    Some  of  it  's  Specks's." 

"Why,  Mr.  Waters,  you  don't  owe  the  boy  any- 
thing!" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  223 

Waters  turned  again  to  the  window,  and  gazed 
thoughtfully  Into  the  quiet  dusk.  Did  she  mean  to 
ignore  his  kindness?  It  did  not  seem  like  Mrs. 
Sprangs.  He  turned  to  her  again,  and  spoke  rapidly 
and  with  a  harsher  tone. 

"He'd  ought  to  go  to  school.  He  can't  'thout 
money.  I've  got  money.  'Tain't  mine.  He  needs 
it.     I  don't.     It's  his'nl" 

"Oh,  if  the  whole  world  were  like  you!"  said 
Mrs.  Sprangs. 

Waters  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  face;  he  could 
hear  it  singing  in  his  ears.  He  turned  his  face  again 
to  the  window,  and  studiously  noted  the  change  in 
the  sky.  It  had  been  amber  before;  now  it  was  dun. 
It  would  be  a  dull  blue  In  half  an  hour.  All  the 
while  he  was  thinking  how  such  words  would  have 
changed  him  In  the  old  dark  time.  How  they  would 
have  shattered  the  night  with  riotous  dawn  I  And 
yet,  as  he  thought  thus,  he  was  ashamed  of  his  own 
thoughts.  The  memory  of  the  glowing  woman  of 
the  spring  flashed  through  his  brain,  and  threw  a 
searching  light  upon  his  guilty  thoughts.  Why  did 
the  old  time  cling?    He  did  not  want  it  back. 

"I  ain't  good!"  he  said  defiantly.  *Tou  don't 
have  to  be  good  to  give  away  what  ain't  your'n.  I 
want  to  send  Specks  to  school,  and  you'd  ought  to 
let  me.  I'd  let  him  pay  it  back  to  me  or  somebody 
else  that  needed  it." 

"If  you  really  want  to,  Mr.  Waters,"  said  Mrs. 


224  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Sprangs,  "and  if  you'll  let  him  pay  it  back,  I'd  be  so 
glad." 

"And  you  see,  Mrs.  Sprangs,"  said  Waters  mus- 
ingly; "mebbe  if  he  knowed  more,  he  wouldn't  think 
the  world  was  queer.  I  never  knowed  much,  and  I 
thought  it  was  queer;  and  it  was  me,  jest  me.  Did 
you  ever  strike  a  match  in  a  dark  night,  and  see  how 
much  darker  that  made  things?  That's  the  way  it 
is.     Takes  a  bonfire  or  nothin'  I" 

"And  then,"  said  Waters  at  length,  speaking  very 
low  and  slowly,  "the  boy  kind  of  seems  like  he's 
part  my  boy  now,  since  his  pa  died.  Wisht  I  was 
good  enough  and  smart  enough  to  be  everybody's 
pa." 


IV 
The  Needle  Club 

Owing  to  her  mania  for  seeing  things  go,  Mrs. 
Griggs  had  long  since  been  elevated  to  the  presidency 
of  the  Needle  Society  of  Fort  Calhoun.  This  or- 
ganization was  only  secondarily  a  needle  club.  Its 
basic  reason  for  being  (though  never  openly  ac- 
knowledged) was  broader  than  a  quilt,  and  more  in- 
tricate than  fancy  work.  So  it  happened  that  the 
needle  had  lost  its  material  meaning,  and  had  be- 
come merely  symbolical  of  sharper  things. 

The  Needle  Society  of  Fort  Calhoun  met  regu- 
larly on  Tuesday  evenings.  This  regularity,  how- 
ever commendable  as  a  principle,  was  bad  as  a  pol- 
icy, in  that  it  precluded  the  immediate  discussion  of 
current  topics,  thus  placing  the  organization  as  a 
news  exchange  upon  the  vulgar  level  of  the  Trumpet 
that  was  able  to  blow  only  weekly  echoes,  owing 
to  the  daily  convention  at  the  grocery  store. 

And  yet,  to  do  the  Needle  Club  justice,  it  must 
be  said  that  while  the  policy  of  the  Grocery  Store 
was  rather  a  destructive  one,  and  the  blasts  of  the 
Trumpet  merely  echoes,  the  Needle  Club  was  not 

225 


226  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

only  a  combination  of  the  two,  but  a  great  deal  more. 
Though  it  rarely  had  the  opportunity  of  working 
upon  the  raw  material  in  a  destructive  manner,  it 
always  builded  anew  upon  the  wreck  of  the  old.  It 
ripped  open  threadbare  reputations,  and  applied 
deft  patches  where  they  were  most  needed.  It  did 
not  merely  stand  aghast  at  horrible  rents,  as  the 
Grocery  Store  did;  but  it  went  at  them  with  a  vim, 
and  stitched  them  stoutly. 

When  the  needle  workers  arrived  at  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Griggs,  they  found  their  president  with  a 
face  of  care.  She  greeted  them  with  a  business-like 
brevity  that  said  plainly:  "No  frivolities;  there  is 
work  to  be  done!'* 

When  the  quilting  frame  had  been  placed  in  the 
kitchen  (for  Mrs.  Griggs  just  could  not  stand  a 
litter  on  the  carpet  of  her  best  room)  the  murmur 
of  talk  increased  to  a  merry  babble,  through  which 
the  usual  prenuptial  jokes  were  bandied  back  and 
forth  like  shuttles  weaving  a  gaudy  cloth. 

**I  suppose  Sary's  heart  is  jest  thumpin'  with  joy, 
poor  thing!"  said  a  slim,  angular  woman  with  matri- 
monial failure  written  upon  a  face  of  sunken  eyes, 
protruding  cheek  bones,  long  slender  nose  and  thin, 
nervous  lips;  "but  she'll  sing  a  different  tune  by 
and  by,  if  I  don't  miss  my  guess!" 

"Lawsy  me,  yes !"  sighed  a  little  self-effaced  wo- 
man slavishly  plying  her  needle. 

"Well,  if  she's  got  the  right  sort  of  spunk  she'll 
pull  through  in  one  piece,  I  reckon,"  waspishly  added 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  227 

a  heavy  muscular  woman  whose  every  movement 
suggested  belligerency. 

Mrs.  Griggs  smiled  with  the  superiority  of  latent 
knowledge. 

^^Leastwise/*  she  observed  with  deliberation, 
"Hank  hain't  no  ugly  sot  and  Sary  hain't  a 
heathenr'  At  the  last  word  her  voice  sharpened 
into  vocal  italics.  Then  she  closed  her  lips  tightly, 
with  an  air  that  said  plainly:  "I  could  say  more  if 
you'd  dig  it  out  of  me." 

"Gracious,  no!"  said  the  belligerent  woman. 
"What  can  you  mean,  Mrs.  Griggs?" 

"Well,"  answered  the  president,  "mebbe  I'd 
oughtn't  to've  brought  Sary  and  Hank  into  It,  them 
jest  a  startin'  out  fresh  and  joyous  on  life's  stony 
highway." 

Itf  Bring  Sary  and  Hank  into  what?  The 
Needle  Society  of  Fort  Calhoun  wanted  to  know! 

"We've  got  heathen  In  our  very  midst!"  Mrs. 
Griggs  delivered  herself  of  this  In  a  voice  of  awe. 
Her  round  face  was  a  travesty  of  sublimity. 

"Heathen?" 

"Heathen!" 

''Heathenir 

"Hea-M^w././r 

These  four  exclamations  ran  the  gamut  of  vocal 
emphasis. 

"I  was  up  to  Sprangses  this  afternoon  and  called 
on  Mrs.  Waters." 

The  society  forgot  its  quilt  and  waited  breath- 


228  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

lessly  for  the  president  to  display  the  shameless 
rent. 

"I  seen  her." 

Mrs.  Griggs'  marvellous  taciturnity  suggested  the 
restraint  of  the  master. 

"You  did?"     (The  self-effaced  woman.) 

"Come,  Mrs.  Griggs,  don't  be  so  tantalizin'  1" 
(The  woman  with  the  face  of  matrimonial  failure.) 

"If  we've  got  heathen  amongst  us,  we've  got  a 
right  to  know,  I  guess !"     (The  belligerent  woman.) 

"Well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Griggs,  "we've  got  that 
very  thing  amongst  us,  and  may  the  Lord  deliver 
us!     Mrs.  Waters  is  a  heathen  I" 

Every  hearer  gasped  in  horror. 

"It's  no  more'n  a  body  could  look  for,  goodness 
knows !  Who  but  a  heathen  would've  married  that 
ugly  drunken  monster,  I'd  like  to  know?"  said  the 
woman  upon  whose  face  the  tale  of  connubial  in- 
felicity was  written.  She  had  never  been  known 
to  miss  a  chance  for  dealing  a  blow  at  her  natural 
enemy,  the  male. 

"Well,  to  begin  with,"  said  Mrs.  Griggs,  "I  must 
say  for  her  that  she's  a  curiosity.  She  don't  look 
nothin'  like  me  nor  you,  and  still  she  hain't  what 
you'd  call  hombly.  She's  got  eyes  and  nose  and 
mouth  and  ears,  but  she  don't  look  like  nobody  but 
herself,  and  that  ain't  flatterin'  her,  goodness  knows ! 
Lets  her  hair  hang  down  her  back — the  longest, 
greasiest,  yallerish,  reddish  hair!  When  I  first  see 
her  I  said  to  myself:     'Gracious  me,  I'd  make  you 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  229 

do  that  up  or  cut  it  off  if  you  was  at  my  house'. 
'Cause  I  always  say  there's  nothin'  works  agin  the 
peace  of  a  family  like  hair  in  the  victuals!" 

"Hm  I"  sniffed  the  woman  with  the  face  of  marital 
woe.  By  which  she  interposed  that  she  could  say 
a  thing  or  two  on  the  subject  of  domestic  peace,  if 
she  were  not  so  long  suffering  and  patient. 

"But  that  hain't  really  the  worst,"  continued  Mrs. 
Griggs.  "She's  never  been  into  a  church  in  her 
life !  Jest  as  good  as  said  so !  I  daresay  she  don't 
know  she's  got  a  Saviour  as  died  on  the  cross  for 
the  likes  of  her!" 

The  little  self-effaced  woman  opened  her  mouth, 
raised  her  hands  in  awe,  gasped,  closed  her  mouth 
hopelessly,  and  dropped  her  hands  limply  in  her  lap. 

"And  she  said  what  did  we  shut  God  up  in  a 
house  for,  think  of  that!  Like  as  if  He  was  a  jack- 
in-the-box  a-bobbin'  up  of  a  Sabbath  with  a  spring! 
W'y  I  trembled  for  fear  she'd  be  struck  down  with 
lightnin'  on  the  spot !  I  did  that.  And  Mrs.  Sprangs 
jest  sided  right  in  with  her.  She  said  Mrs.  Waters 
had  always  lived  wild  like  a  red  Injun  in  an  island 
up  the  river  somewheres!" 

"And  to  think F'  ejaculated  the  belligerent  woman, 
with  her  large  fists  set  firmly  on  her  protruding 
hips,  "that  this  enlightened  community  has  got  to 
have  heathen  in  its  midst!" 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  ventured  the  little  self- 
effaced  woman,  "I  think  we'd  ought  to  pray  for  her 
soul.     It's  a  body's  Christian  duty." 


230  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

This  opinion  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  Needle 
Society  and  chastened  it. 

*^I  suppose  we'd  all  ought  to  pray  for  her,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Griggs;  "and  what's  more,  I  think  we'd  ought 
to  appoint  a  committee  to  go  to  her  and  yank  her 
soul  out'n  the  slough  of  sin!" 

Everyone  thought  this  was  a  good  idea.  It  was 
certainly  the  duty  of  the  women  folks  to  battle  for 
the  high  moral  standard  of  the  community.  Good- 
ness knew  I  It  could  go  to  smash  for  all  the  men 
cared! 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  Needle  Society  of  Fort 
Calhoun  appointed  a  committee  to  look  after  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  Mrs.  Waters.  It  consisted  of 
the  belligerent  woman,  the  matrimonial  failure  and 
Mrs.  Griggs.  It  requires  strong  natures  to  fight 
Sin. 


The  Committee  On  Salvation 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon.  Mrs.  Sprangs  and  Mrs. 
Waters  sat  in  the  front  room.  During  the  week, 
Waters  and  Specks  had  taken  a  southbound  packet 
for  St.  Louis,  where  Specks  was  to  go  to  school; 
and  there  was  an  air  of  lonesomeness  about  the 
place. 

Since  her  coming  to  Calhoun,  the  Island  Girl  had 
grown  paler.  She  rarely  spoke,  and  her  voice  had 
become  fainter.  Her  experiences  of  the  past  month 
had  developed  symptoms  of  that  nervous  malady 
which  had  destroyed  her  father.  She  walked  with 
a  quick  spasmodic  motion,  and  the  slightest  sound 
made  her  start.  The  sense  of  the  dropping  away  of 
the  foundations  of  her  life  had  been  intensified  since 
the  visit  of  Mrs.  Griggs.  Her  delicate  face  bore 
a  tense  expression  as  of  a  vague  fear. 

**You  say  he  can  not  be  back  by  sunset?"  she  said 
wearily  to  her  companion. 

"No,  dear,  it  will  be  a  month  before  he  can  be 
back.  You  must  not  worry  about  him.  Just  think, 
my  boy  will  be  gone  all  Winter." 

231 


232  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"A  month?  There  are  many  sunsets  in  a  month. 
I  wish  it  were  only  one  sunset,  and  then  a  long,  long 
night.     Then  he  would  come  back  in  the  morning." 

Mrs.  Waters  abruptly  ceased  speaking  and 
clutched  her  companion's  arm.  Three  women  were 
approaching  the  house,  and  the  foremost  was  Mrs. 
Griggs. 

Mrs.  Waters  sat  rigidly  in  her  chair,  like  a  bird 
charmed  by  a  snake,  as  Mrs.  Sprangs  ushered  in 
the  three  visitors  and  seated  them. 

"It's  a  very  hot  afternoon,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Sprangs,  by  way  of  breaking  the  awkward  silence. 

*'Yes,  indeed,"  puffed  Mrs.  Griggs,  and  the  silence 
closed  in  again. 

The  belligerent  woman  with  tense  brows  and  a 
sharp  nod  of  her  head,  commanded  the  president  of 
the  Needle  Club  to  begin.  Mrs.  Griggs,  with  the 
same  signs,  endeavored  to  push  the  responsibility 
upon  the  woman  with  the  face  of  marital  woe,  who 
shook  her  head  sidewise  and  bit  her  thin  colorless 
lips.  Then  Mrs.  Griggs  sighed,  coughed,  mopped 
her  drenched  brows,  and  began. 

"Mrs.  Sprangs,"  she  said  with  a  martyred  air, 
"we've  come  to  do  the  work  of  the  Lord  in  your 
own  house,  and  mebbe  we'd  ought  to  beg  your  par- 
don, for  not  askin'  you  if  we  could.  But  we  thought 
you'd  be  glad  to  have  the  work  of  salvation  did  un- 
der your  own  roof.  You  know  that  our  sister  here, 
Mrs.  Waters,  hain't  had  the  benefits  of  a  early 
Christian  trainin'  as  we've  had,  and  us  three  pro- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  233 

poses  to  open  the  door  of  mercy,  and  let  the  sun- 
light in  onto  her.  We  will  begin  with  a  hymn  or 
two,  and  after  dispensin'  with  a  few  truths  from  the 
Scriptures,  we  will  close  with  prayer.'' 

With  her  choicest  expression  of  facial  devoutness, 
Mrs.  Griggs  arose  to  her  feet  and  producing  a 
hymnal,  opened  it  to  a  page  marked  with  a  turned- 
down  corner.  The  attack  upon  Satan  had  been  care- 
fully planned. 

The  belligerent  sister  and  the  sister  of  marital 
discontent  simultaneously  arose  and  leaned,  from 
either  side  of  Mrs.  Griggs,  over  the  hymnal.  Mrs. 
Griggs,  as  leader,  gave  the  pitch. 

*'Tra-a  (very  high  and  strained).  No!  Tra- 
tra-tra  (rather  lofty  still,  but  seemingly  satisfactory) 
tra-tra-a-a.    Now  I" 

"Comethou  foun  tof  fev  ry  bles-sing, 
Tunemy  har  to  sing-thy-gra-ce." 

A  burst  of  strident  voices  filled  the  little  room  and 
rushed  out  at  the  doors  and  windows  into  the  dull 
unoffending  August  afternoon.  The  belligerent  wo- 
man stood  with  her  calloused  hands  upon  her  hips, 
and  defiantly  jerked  her  heavy  under-jaw  up  and 
down  as  she  bit  off  the  joy  of  praise  in  great  chunks. 
The  woman  with  the  face  of  woe  leaned  forward, 
squinting  with  eyes  that  much  weeping  had  made 
dim,  and  seemed  to  be  picking  the  words  of  glory  off 
the  printed  page  with  the  point  of  her  attenuated 


234  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

nose.  Mrs.  Griggs  leaned  backward  with  all  her 
perspiring  stoutness,  her  little  eyes  hidden  under 
their  fat  lids  and  her  diminutive  stub  nose  plainly 
pointing  the  way  to  the  skies.  She  made  it  very 
plain  that  she  did  not  need  the  book  at  all.  She 
knew  the  hymn  verbatim  and  sang  it  from  her  heart  I 

"Te  chme  some " 

At  this  point  in  the  hymn,  where  the  very  notes 
(exalted  in  the  start)  insisted  stubbornly  upon  climb- 
ing forthwith  into  the  empyrean,  dragging  "some 
melodious  sonnet"  with  them,  the  faces  of  the  sing- 
ers grew  purple  with  the  strain  of  endeavoring  to 
follow  the  aspiring  air.  It  was  a  flat  failure;  they 
couldn't  possibly  soar  so  high.  The  voices  faltered, 
floundered — and  died  in  a  squawk. 

Mrs.  Griggs  let  her  head  drop  upon  her  agitated 
breast.  The  nose  of  the  woman  of  woe  withdrew 
from  its  vain  toil,  and  the  belligerent  sister  let  her 
heavy  under-jaw  drop,  as  though  she  had  been  hang- 
ing to  the  soaring  tune  with  her  teeth,  and  desisted 
from  sheer  fatigue.  The  two  looked  at  Mrs.  Griggs 
and  scowled.  They  suspected  from  the  first  she  had 
set  the  pitch  too  high. 

"Tra  tra  tra-a-a,*'  hummed  Mrs.  Griggs,  puf- 
fingly,  in  a  lower  key.     "Second  verse,"  she  added. 

The  possible  altitude  of  the  new  pitch  encouraged 
her  sisters  in  song.  The  woman  of  woe  again  in- 
serted her  nose  among  the  notes,  and  the  belligerent 
woman,  refreshed  by  the  breathing  spell,  grasped 
the  hymn  firmly  between  her  teeth  with  a  light  in 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  235 

her  eye  that  said  plainly  how  she  meant  to  shake  it 
to  death  this  time. 


"Here  rile  ra-smine  Neb-en-ne-zer. 
Hi-ther  by  thy  hel  pl'm  co-me; 
And  dl  ho  pby  thy  good  plea-sure, 
Safely  to  ar-rive  vat  ho-me/* 

When  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the  hymn, 
Mrs.  Griggs  with  an  air  of  devout  resignation, 
closed  the  book  leisurely,  and  sought  the  face  of 
the  heathen  for  the  possible  effect  of  her  first  glimpse 
into  glory.  The  woman  of  woe  dropped  her  hands 
languidly  by  her  sides,  and  the  tense  expression  van- 
ished into  the  look  of  chronic  weariness.  She  looked 
as  though  her  Ebenezer  had  been  very  difficult  to 
raise  indeed.  The  belligerent  woman  showed  no 
signs  of  weariness.  Her  under-jaw  was  yet  very 
firm.  She  looked  as  though  she  meant  to  say:  "I 
could  do  it  all  over  again,  and  don't  know  but  I 
shall." 

During  the  hymn,  the  Island  Girl  had  stared 
aghast.  She  had  never  heard  anything  in  all  the 
music  of  the  wilderness  like  this.  As  she  listened 
and  gazed  at  the  singers,  the  sense  of  her  own 
identity  became  dim.  It  was  like  a  nightmare,  so 
utterly  impossible  to  her;  and  yet  it  seemed  to  be 
happening.  When  the  song  ceased,  she  still  stared 
blankly  at  the  three  women.  Mrs.  Sprangs  smiled 
kindly  and  waited  nervously  for  the  next. 


236  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

It  was  not  long  in  coming.  The  attack  upon  the 
devil  was  to  be  rapid  and  decisive.  It  was  not  to  be 
a  siege — the  devil  isn't  taken  that  way.  It  was  to 
be  a  storming — sudden  and  violent  and  pitiless. 
Mrs.  Griggs  remained  standing,  and  the  two  sisters 
seated  themselves. 

"I  will  read,"  announced  Mrs.  Griggs,  fitting  her 
spectacles  to  her  eyes,  and  opening  a  Bible  at  a 
marked  passage,  "from  the  Holy  Script-res;  the 
prophet  Malachi,  chapter  four. 

'Tor,  behold,  the  day  cometh  that  shall  burn  as 
an  oven;  and  all  the  proud,  yea,  and  all  that  do 
wickedly  shall  be  as  stubble,  and  the  day  that  cometh 
shall  burn  them  up,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  that 
it  shall  leave  them  neither  root  nor  branch." 

Mrs.  Griggs  read  in  a  nasal  singsong,  dwelling 
with  terrible  emphasis  upon  the  allusions  to  fire. 
She  closed  the  book  with  a  sigh,  removed  her  spec- 
tacles, and  fixed  her  little  gray  eyes,  now  as  stern 
as  possible,  upon  the  white  face  of  Mrs.  Waters. 

"My  dear  sister,"  she  began  ominously,  "you  have 
sinned  against  the  Most  High,  because  you  have 
never  praised  Him.  Nay,  you  have  said  hard  words 
of  your  Lord.  Repent,  or  you  shall  be  damned! 
Ah,  think  of  what  that  means,  my  sister !  It  means 
that  God  has  prepared  a  place  of  torture  for  them 
as  doesn't  serve  Him;  and  that  place  is  Hell  I  Re- 
pent or  He  will  cast  you  into  the  fire  that  never  goes 
out  and  burn  you  for  all  eternity  I  O  my  sister,  my 
sister!" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  237 

Tears  of  utter  love  stole  sneakingly  out  of  the 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Griggs  and,  lodging  in  the  wrinkles 
of  fat  in  her  cheeks,  made  little  lakes  of  sorrow. 

"You  must  change  your  ways  or  you  will  die. 
And  If  that  only  meant  dyin'  and  havin*  yourself 
put  into  the  cold,  cold  grave,  w'y  then  it  wouldn't 
be  so  bad."  Mrs.  Griggs  was  weeping  softly.  "But 
it  don't!"  Mrs.  Griggs  sobbed  aloud,  and  the 
woman  of  woes  hid  her  eyes  in  her  handkerchief 
and  snivelled.  "It  don't!  It  don't!"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Griggs,  the  overpowering  sense  of  the  eternal  truth 
harrowing  up  her  soul.  "It  means  a-burnin'  and 
f ryin'  and  sizzlln'  always !  And  them  as  loves  you 
mebbe'll  be  up  in  heaven  a-watchin'  you!     O  my 


sister!" 


Mrs.  Griggs'  grief  became  uncontrollable,  and 
she  sobbed  In  a  manner  worthy  of  a  hysterical  fu- 
neral. The  Island  Woman,  unskilled  to  look  be- 
neath appearances,  and  moved  by  the  great  incom- 
prehensible grief  before  her,  wept,  hiding  her  face 
on  Mrs.  Sprangs'  shoulder  and  clinging  to  her  des- 
perately. 

"She's  gettin'  the  spirit,"  whispered  Mrs.  Griggs 
to  the  belligerent  sister.  "Let  us  pray  while  the 
spirit  is  onto  her."    And  the  three  knelt. 

"O  Lord,"  snivelled  Mrs.  Griggs,  "send  Thy 
spirit  down  onto  us  and  bless  us  a-workin'  for  Thee ! 
Thou  saldest  inasmuch  as  we  did  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  we  was  a-doin'  it  to  Thee;  and  we 
want  to  do  it  to  Thee,  O  Lord.     If  we  seem  to  be 


238  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

a-workin*  hard  for  Thee,  don't  pity  us,  Lord;  we'd 
give  our  lives  for  Thee  who  gave  Thine  for  us. 
Bless  us  and  help  us  to  drive  the  heathen  out'n  the 
land/' 

With  one  eye,  Mrs.  Griggs  had  been  covertly 
watching  the  effect  of  her  attack  upon  the  devil. 
Therefore,  when  she  saw  Mrs.  Sprangs  get  up  from 
her  chair  and  lead  the  broken  heathen  away,  she 
closed  her  prayer  abruptly. 

"Amen  I" 

The  Needle  Society's  committee  on  salvation  was 
alone  in  the  room. 

"There  it  is  I"  said  the  belligerent  woman  in  dis- 
gust; "Mrs.  Sprangs  is  just  a-doin'  all  she  can  for 
the  heathen  I" 

And  the  committee  obstreperously  left  the  house 
of  the  devil. 


VI 

The  Judgment 

"Well,  things  has  come  to  the  worst,"  announced 
Mrs.  Griggs  to  the  Needle  Society,  assembled  for  its 
weekly  task;  "and  it  ain't  any  more  than  I  expected, 
although  the  judgments  of  the  Lord  hain't  often 
so  sudden  as  I'd  make  'em  if  I  was  Him,  which  I 
hain't.  But  He  knows  best,  and  goodness  knows, 
this  judgment  was  suddent  enough !" 

"Why,  what's  happened?"  asked  the  little  self- 
effaced  woman.  Her  domestic  duties  so  engrossed 
her  that  she  was  often  known  to  display  alarming 
ignorance  of  current  events. 

"You  don't  say  that  you  haven't  heard?  Why, 
it's  all  over  town  long  ago!"  Mrs.  Griggs'  face 
was  superior  and  contemptuous.  "We  went  over  to 
Sprangses  last  Sunday  to  bring  Mrs.  Waters  to  the 
true  light;  and  didn't  Mrs.  Sprangs  take  her  heathen 
and  get  out  of  the  room  while  we  was  on  our  knees 
a-beggin'  for  her  at  the  Throne  of  Mercy?  And 
so  I  say,  it's  happened!" 

"What?"  persisted  the  self-effaced  woman. 

"W'y,  the  judgment  as  was  to  be  expected  has 

239 


240  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

come  down  onto  the  head  of  the  heathen,  though  it 
hain't  touched  Mrs.  Sprangs  yet.  When  I  heard 
a-Monday  that  Mrs.  Waters  was  sick  abed  and 
delirious,  it  come  to  me  like  a  flash — It's  the  judg- 
ment !  And  then  when  Sary  run  over  and  said  that 
it  was  bein'  told  that  Mrs.  Waters  wasn't  just  de- 
lirious but  plum  crazy,  I  knowed  I  was  right.  You 
know  God  always  makes  them  crazy  that  he  wishes 
to  destroy.  Well,"  sighed  conscientious  Mrs. 
Griggs,  "we  done  all  we  could  for  her,  and  we  can 
rest  easy  and  let  the  Lord  take  His  course. 

"We  hain't  hid  our  light  under  a  bushel,"  she  con- 
tinued. "We  took  it  to  her  and  she  wouldn't  have 
none  of  it."  She  remained  silent  for  a  moment  by 
way  of  deepening  the  impression  of  a  peaceful  con- 
science. "Well,  this  morning  I  thought  to  myself 
I'd  go  over  to  Sprangses  and  see  if  I  couldn't  be  of 
some  help  with  the  sick,  because  I  always  think  when 
folks  is  sick  they'd  ought  to  be  took  care  of,  whether 
they'd  ought  to  get  well  or  not.  'Tain't  more'n  a 
body's  Christian  duty.  So  I  put  on  my  sunbonnet 
and  run  over;  and  do  you  think  Mrs.  Sprangs  would 
let  me  in?  Not  her!  She  met  me  at  the  door  and 
says  in  them  simperin'  tones  of  her'n  she's  got  since 
she  don't  wash  for  a  livin';  'Mrs.  Waters  is  quite 
sick,  Mrs.  Griggs,'  she  says,  just  that  way;  'it  was 
very  kind  of  you  to  enquire.  I've  sent  for  the 
doctor;  he'll  be  up  on  to-morrow's  stage.  I  think 
in  her  state  no  one  should  see  her.'  Just  that  way 
she  said  it,  and  me  a-leavin'  my  work  and  puttin'  my- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  241 

self  out!  I  could' ve  spit  in  her  face,  I  was  that 
throughother!  But  I  didn't;  I  just  turned  around 
without  sayin'  a  word,  I  was  that  beat,  and  walked 
away.  Well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Griggs,  ^'things  can  go 
as  they  will  for  all  me  I"  The  needle  of  the  presi- 
dent worked  spitefully  for  several  minutes. 

^^Welly'  snapped  the  belligerent  woman,  "if  Mrs. 
Waters  dies,  which  she  most  likely  will,  I  guess  Mrs. 
Sprangs  won't  bawl  her  eyes  out  I  Goodness  knows 
she  tried  hard  enough  to  get  that  Waters  to  propose 
before  he  had  money.  And  what  wouldn't  she  do 
now?  It  beats  me  what  she  ever  see  in  him!  I  al- 
ways think  it's  hard  enough  to  put  up  with  a  whole 
man,  let  alone  a  man  that  hain't  got  all  his  eyes  and 
legs  and  things!" 

**Gracious  me,  yes!"  sighed  the  woman  of  marital 
woe. 

"I  daresay,"  pursued  the  belligerent  woman,  '*if 
you  see  a  funeral,  you'll  see  a  weddin'  before  snow 
flies !  It's  sickenin'  the  way  them  two  goes  on. 
Her  a-coddlin'  his  baby  like  it  was  her'n;  and  him 
a-hangin'  around  that  freckled  boy  of  her'n  like  it 
was  his'n!  I  think  Mrs.  Waters  'd  do  well  to  get 
out  of  their  road  and  let  them  put  their  families  to- 
gether; poor  thing!" 

This  placing  of  Mrs.  Waters  in  the  light  of  an 
abused  wife,  infused  a  new  spirit  into  the  conversa- 
tion. 

*'Yes,  I  say  poor  thing!"  said  the  woman  of  mat- 
rimonial infelicity.     "I  say  poor  thing!     She  looks 


242  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

so  innocent  and  trusting.  I  daresay  she  leads  a  hard 
life  with  him.  There's  no  doubting  it'd  be  a  blessing 
to  her  to  get  shut  of  him  by  dying.'* 

**Yes,  indeed,"  sighed  Mrs.  Griggs;  "for  though 
the  young  thing  is  a  heathen,  her  early  trainin' 
prob'bly  wasn't  of  the  best;  and  folks  should  have 
charity.  I  declare  I  don't  know  which  is  the  worst, 
Mrs.  Sprangs  or  Mrs.  Waters.  Mrs.  Sprangs  has 
lived  in  a  enlightened  community,  leastways.  I 
really  guess  she's  the  worst.  But  she'll  get  her  judg- 
ment later,  I  reckon.  'Specially  if  she  gets  Waters. 
That'd  be  judgment  enough  for  a  most  anybody  I" 


VII 
A  Cloud  Across  the  Sunrise 

It  was  In  the  evening  of  a  mid-September  day  that 
Waters  alighted  from  the  Omaha  City  stage  that 
stopped  In  front  of  the  Green  Tree  Grocery. 

The  arrival  of  a  stage  at  Calhoun  was  one  of  the 
events  of  the  week  which  (with  the  occasional 
steamboat)  vied  with  the  sunrise  and  the  sunset  in 
giving  life  that  variety  which  is  alleged  to  be  its 
spice.  Consequently  a  mixed  crowd  of  men  and  boys 
had  congregated  at  the  store. 

When  Waters,  the  odd,  the  rich,  the  mysterious, 
the  food  for  gossip,  stepped  from  the  coach,  a  mur- 
mur of  surprise  and  wonder  went  through  the  crowd. 
For  Mr.  Waters  was  no  longer  Mr.  Waters.  To 
be  sure,  the  alighting  passenger  had  the  curling  hair 
of  Mr.  Waters,  although  it  had  evidently  under- 
gone some  refining  process.  Also,  he  had  the  face 
of  Waters,  all  but  the  eyeless  socket;  the  socket  was 
no  longer  eyeless.  It  contained  an  eye  of  an  un- 
usually bold  and  penetrating  stare,  and  a  sort  of 
frank  defiance  of  physiological  laws.  An  inde- 
pendent eye  it  was,  placidly  refusing  to  follow  the 
roving  gaze  of  its  more  versatile  companion. 

243 


244  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Also  the  body  of  the  man,  although  neatly  clothed, 
was  the  body  of  Waters;  but  the  left  leg  was  no 
longer  wooden.  It  was  a  leg  with  a  foot  at  its  ex- 
tremity, and  it  was  decently  clothed  in  trousers.  But 
as  it  moved,  it  demonstrated  an  independent  if  not 
rebellious  nature  like  the  eye. 

Therefore  the  little  crowd  simply  gazed  in  won- 
der at  this  seeming  hallucination,  as  the  man  passed, 
smiling  kindly  and  with  a  glow  on  his  face  that  was 
not  cast  from  the  brilliant  west  where  the  day  was 
passing. 

*'Is  that  him?'*  said  one. 

*'It's  him  all  right;  but  him  with  another  cork 
leg  and  a  glass  eye !" 

*'ril  be  danged!"  exclaimed  another.  "Waters 
is  made  over!" 

And  so  he  was.  In  the  joy  of  his  new  life.  Waters 
had  rediscovered  his  self-respect.  During  his  stay 
in  St.  Louis  he  had  not  been  idle.  He  had  placed 
Specks  in  a  boarding  school.  He  had  deposited  his 
considerable  wealth  in  a  bank.  He  had  bought  a 
steamboat,  and  ordered  it  to  be  refitted;  for  he  had 
decided  to  go  into  business  for  himself.  And  finally 
he  had  "made  himself  over"  with  a  glass  eye  and  a 
cork  leg. 

And  so  it  was  not  without  a  certain  innocent  pride 
that  he  hurried  toward  the  house  of  Mrs.  Sprangs, 
with  his  wooden  leg, — the  tangible  past,  too  dear 
to  be  discarded  utterly — in  a  bundle  under  one  arm; 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  245 

and  under  the  other  arm  a  bundle  (tangibly  repre- 
sentative of  the  future)  containing  material  for  new 
garments  for  Mrs.  Waters.  As  he  neared  the 
Sprangs  home,  his  heart  was  very  light  within  him. 
The  last  glorious  flood  of  light  from  the  passing  day 
seemed  to  him  to  emanate  from  his  own  soul.  Now 
at  last  his  sunrise  had  begun.  He  had  gained  the 
respect  of  men,  and  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  do  much 
good,  and  consequently  be  very  happy. 

Many  brave,  beautiful  plans  ran  in  his  head  like 
music.  He  would  build  a  house  yet  that  Fall.  His 
young  wife  would  become  accustomed  to  the  strange 
new  life,  and  people  would  love  her  and  honor  her. 
Then  in  the  Spring  he  would  make  his  first  trip  as 
owner  and  captain  of  a  steamboat.  He  knew  how. 
large  the  profits  from  such  an  enterprise  could  be, 
and  he  would  make  much  money,  and  thus  gain 
greater  power  for  helping  those  who  suffered  as  he 
had  done. 

He  arrived  at  the  door,  and  was  met  by  Mrs. 
Sprangs.  Although  her  face  was  gentle  as  ever,  he 
noted  a  new  weariness  and  anxiety  upon  it.  Also, 
he  noted  with  pleasure  the  look  of  surprise  as  she 
saw  the  changes  he  had  made  in  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. 

"Well,  IVe  gone  and  made  myself  over,  Mrs. 
Sprangs,"  he  said,  smiling  pleasantly  and  glad  as  a 
boy.  "But  you'll  be  wantin'  to  know  about  the  boy 
first,  I  reckon.    Well,  he*s  in  a  nice  place,  and  he'll 


H6  the    DAWN-BUILDER 

learn  a  lot,  too.  Said  for  me  to  tell  you  not  to 
worry  more'n  you  could  help.  Good  boy  that,  Mrs. 
Sprangs." 

Mrs.  Sprangs  put  her  finger  to  her  lips  and  said 
quietly:  "Tell  me  about  him  afterwhile;  Mrs. 
Waters  is  quite  sick." 

A  little  cloud  went  over  Waters'  sunrise.  Nerv- 
ously he  followed  Mrs.  Sprangs  to  the  little  bed- 
room. There  lay  the  Island  Girl,  white  and  languid, 
her  delicate  face,  now  grown  pale,  framed  in  her 
sunny  hair.  She  was  staring  blankly  at  the  wall. 
Waters  went  quietly  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  spoke 
to  her. 

"You  been  sick,  dear?"  he  said  tenderly. 

At  the  sound  of  the  familiar  voice  that  she  had 
always  been  hearing  in  her  delirium,  she  turned  her 
strangely  staring  eyes  upon  Waters  and  gazed  at 
him,  at  first  with  a  faint  light  of  recognition  that 
changed  gradually  into  questioning,  then  into  terror. 

"Oh,  go  away  I"  she  said  gaspingly.  "You  are 
not — you  are — oh,  go  away." 

With  the  strength  of  terror  she  lifted  herself  in 
her  bed  and  crouched  against  the  wall. 

"Don't  you  know  me,  dear?"  said  Waters  caress- 
ingly. "Don't  you  remember  when  we  was  up  in 
the  island?  It's  me;  can't  you  see?  Of  course  you 
do  I" 

He  leaned  across  the  bed,  and  reached  trembling 
arms  out  for  her.  She  shrank  back  closer  against 
the  wall,  and  stared  with  eyes  glazed  with  terror. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  247 

**No"  she  gasped,  "you  are  not  the  one!'*  She 
placed  her  thin  hands  over  her  eyes  and  shook  with 
fear. 

"She  don't  know,  me  this  way/'  muttered  Waters, 
and  he  went  out  of  the  room. 

"What  was  it?"  gasped  the  sick  woman  to  Mrs. 
Sprangs.  "Was  it  only  another  terrible  dream  come 
to  torture  me?    When  will  he  come  back?" 

"Soon,"  said  Mrs.  Sprangs,  stroking  the  luminous 
hair. 

In  a  few  minutes  Waters  returned.  He  had  re- 
moved his  artificial  eye  and  replaced  his  wooden  leg. 
When  he  entered  the  room,  the  sick  woman  gave  a 
feeble  cry  of  joy,  and  tried  to  arise  from  the  bed  to 
meet  him,  but  fell  back  exhausted  upon  her  pillow. 

"You  know  me  now,  don't  you,  little  woman?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  feeling  his  face  with  her  weak 
hands  and  speaking  brokenly;  "It — is — you.  There 
was  another — another  here  just  now.  It  tried  to 
look  like  you.     But — it  was  not — so  beautiful." 

In  her  days  of  longing,  the  very  disfigurement  of 
Waters  had  become  a  fetich  to  her. 

"I  can  hear  the  wind  singing  in  the  trees  back  in 
the  old  place,"  she  said  languidly.  "I  can  hear  the 
river  washing  on  the  sand.  It  left  with  you,  but  I 
can  hear  it  now.  And  I  am  not  sick  any  more,  am 
I?  Why  do  I  hear  it,  so  sweet  and  low  and  sooth- 
ing, when  I  touch  you?" 

"You  must  get  well   right  away,"  said  Waters 


248  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

caressingly,  "and  mebbe  we'll  go  back  there  after- 
while." 

"Yes,"  she  said  wearily,  "I  will  sleep  now  and  get 
well,  then  we  will  go  back.  I  am  not  afraid  to  sleep 
now;  I  will  not  see  ugly  things  now.  I  will  hear 
the  wind  and  the  river  back  there." 

Waters  laid  her  head  gently  on  the  pillow,  and 
stroked  her  forehead.  Like  a  tired  child,  she  closed 
her  eyes  and  sank  into  a  sleep.  Waters  sat  beside 
the  bed,  holding  one  of  the  thin,  blue-veined  hands. 
He  heard  nothing  but  her  light,  spasmodic  breath- 
ing; saw  nothing  but  the  thin  pale  face,  grown  frail 
and  delicate  as  a  Spring  flower  growing  in  a  deep 
shade.  Her  slender  nose  was  pinched  with  suffer- 
ing; her  eyes  were  sunken  and  the  lids  were  traced 
with  thin  threads  of  blue. 

As  Waters  sat  and  watched  he  lived  over  the 
island  life  again,  from  the  bitterness  of  his  waking 
there  to  the  joyous  hope  of  his  leaving.  His  con- 
science accused  him  bitterly.  He  should  never  have 
brought  her  away.  What  if  she  should  die?  The 
awful  thought  aroused  him.  He  turned  to  Mrs. 
Sprangs,  sitting  near  the  bed  holding  his  sleeping 
child. 

"We'd  ought  to  have  a  doctor,"  he  said  in  a 
hoarse  whisper. 

"I  had  a  doctor  a  week  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Sprangs; 
"he  said  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  keep  her  quiet. 
He  said  the  sudden  change  in  her  life  had  shaken  her 


nerves." 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  249 

^*Is  he  coming  back  again?" 

*'He  said  there  was  no  use  in  his  coming  back." 

*'No  use,  no  use;"  the  words  ran  monotonously 
in  Water's  head.  He  gazed  at  the  woman  holding  his 
child,  with  an  eye  that  seemed  searching  something 
at  a  great  distance.  Once  he  had  dreamed  of  this 
woman  holdi:^  his  child,  and  it  was  denied  him. 
Now  that  the  jld  desire  had  passed,  and  he  had  a 
child,  it  was  sleeping  in  her  arms.  How  strange  it 
all  seemed  I  What  he  did  not  want,  he  had;  and 
what  he  wanted  was  slowly,  slowly  slipping  from 
him. 

With  a  sudden  movement,  he  turned  to  the  bed 
again,  and  placing  one  arm  under  the  frail  head,  he 
clung  to  the  sick  woman  as  though  with  the  strength 
of  desperation,  to  hold  her  back  from  the  dreadful 
silence  into  which  she  seemed  slowly  slipping  from 
him.  Never  before  had  time  seemed  so  terrible  to 
him ;  not  even  in  the  old  days  of  long,  weary  watch- 
ing for  the  northbound  steamer  that  should  bring 
him  his  happiness. 

All  night  Waters  and  Mrs.  Sprangs  sat  together 
beside  the  bed  of  the  woman  sick  with  the  home-ache. 
He  held  the  frail,  languid  hand,  counting  the  slow 
throbbing  of  the  pulse.  She,  with  her  calm,  sleepless 
mother-eyes,  hovered  about,  busying  herself  with  the 
application  of  homely  remedies ;  speaking  soft  words 
of  cheer  to  the  man  who  watched. 

"Mrs.  Sprangs,"  said  Waters;  **I  guess  I'll  take 
her  back.    She's  jest  a  little  delicate  flower,  and  she 


250  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

can't  live  here.  Don't  you  think  Td  better  take  her 
back?" 

Mrs.  Sprang  placed  her  strong,  capable  mother's 
hand  upon  the  golden  locks  of  the  man. 

*'Yes,"  she  said,  ''and  you  must  let  me  go  back, 
too.  She  needs  a  woman  to  wait  upon  her,  and  I 
will  be  her  baby's  mother  until  she  gets  well.  Won't 
you  let  me  go?" 

Waters  raised  his  face  to  the  quiet,  careworn  face 
of  Mrs.  Sprangs  and  smiled. 

*'0  Mrs.  Sprangs,  you're  an  angel  1" 

"No,"  she  said  quietly;  "I'm  just  a  woman." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  placed  the  tips  of 
her  fingers  to  his  lips. 

"It's  all  the  same,"  he  said. 


VIII 
As  They  Saw  It 

"Gracious  me  I"  said  Mrs.  Griggs,  closing  her  fat 
eyelids  with  a  sigh  of  benevolence.  "There  you  have 
it  I  rd  never  have  thought  it  of  Mrs.  Sprangs, 
though  I  always  did  think  there  was  something  sly 
about  her.  You  never  could  get  her  to  talk  free 
about  things.  Think  of  her  a-going  up  there  into  a 
savage  island  with  Waters  and  his  half  dead  heathen 
wife  I  The  way  she  does  foller  that  yeller-headed, 
one-eyed,  wooden-legged — well,  folks  should  be 
careful  of  what  they  say!  Little  she  thinks  that  Mrs. 
Waters  Ul  ever  get  well.  Not  her  I  She's  got  it  all 
planned  out,  the  sly,  designin'  creature  1  I  daresay 
they're  both  a-holdin  their  breaths  till  the  poor  little 
innocent  thing  dies  I" 

The  Needle  Society  had  not  even  touched  a  needle 
as  yet;  for  a  boat  bound  for  the  north  had  that  day 
taken  with  it  the  three  burning  topics  of  conversa- 
tion, and  everything  else  was  forgotten. 

The  little  self-effaced  woman  sighed  a  wretched 
sigh,  and  wilted  into  a  non-combatant  heap,  at  the 
thought  of  the  overpowering  badness  of  the  world. 
The  woman  of  marital  woe  wrapped  her  face  in  a 

251 


252  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

frozen  grin,  and  remained  locked  in  a  Winter 
silence. 

*Well!"  snapped  the  belligerent  woman,  biting 
her  words  off  with  powerful  jaws;  "I'd  like  to  see 
him  get  meF'  And  she  straightened  herself,  placed 
her  strong  hands  firmly  upon  her  hips,  and  with  a 
face  of  battle,  stared  down  an  imaginary  host  of 
Messrs.  Waters  advancing  to  the  siege. 

At  the  Grocery  Store  the  convention  was  at  work. 

"It  does  beat  a  certain  hot  inland  settlement,*'  said 
Mr.  Coppers,  "how  that  there  Waters  has  played 
the  devil  with  the  heart  of  the  widder  and  orphan  I 
I'll  bet  poor  old  Sprangs  is  turnin'  over  in  his  grave 
something  furious  about  now!  You  see,  this  here's 
the  way  of  it.  Waters  comes  up  here  to  work  for 
Simpson.  The  widder's  boy  works  for  Simpson,  too. 
Widder's  boy  likes  Waters.  Waters  goes  home  with 
widder's  boy.  Widder  gets  sweet  onto  Waters,  and 
'tother  way  just  as  bad.  Sprangs  comes  back,  and 
Waters  leaves.  Waters  comes  back  with  a  woman, 
and  Sprangs  is  dead !  Nothin'  in  the  road  but  the 
other  woman!  Other  woman  gets  sick — can't  get 
well,  folks  has  it.  Mrs.  Sprangs  says:  'Mr. 
Waters,  she's  dyin'  of  homesickness;  let's  take  her 
back  to  the  island.'  Then  Waters  and  Mrs.  Sprangs 
trades  winks,  and  says:     'Yes,  we'll  take  her  back.' 

"Draw  your  own  conclusions,  gentlemen.  It  ain't 
Coppers  that  would  say  a  word  against  any  woman 
on  earth!" 

And  the  convention  became  one  knowing  grin. 


IX 

The  Growing  Mystery 

On  a  quiet  evening  in  early  October,  a  steamboat 
pulled  in  at  Old  Man's  Island,  and  made  fast.  Im- 
mediately after,  a  gang  of  deck  hands  began  unload- 
ing a  considerable  quantity  of  household  goods,  va- 
rious articles  of  furniture  and  food;  for  the  wilder- 
ness that  had  for  a  few  months  been  left  uninhabited, 
was  again  to  be  occupied. 

After  the  unloading  of  the  goods,  four  deck  hands 
appeared  from  the  cabin,  bearing  a  cot  upon  which 
lay  the  sick  Queen  now  returning  to  her  kingdom 
after  exile.  Beside  the  cot  walked  Waters  and  Mrs. 
Sprangs,  carrying  the  child  In  her  arms. 

As  they  left  the  gang  plank  and  entered  the 
timber,  a  great  joy  lit  up  the  frail  face  of  the  Island 
Girl.  With  a  great  effort,  she  lifted  herself  from 
the  cot  and  sat  up,  leaning  upon  a  trembling  arm, 
and  drinking  in  the  scene  about  her. 

*'OhI"  she  cried,  *'how  kind  and  beautiful  it  all 
is  I  See  my  old  trees  clapping  their  hands  and  shak- 
ing with  laughter  because  I  have  come  back!  Oh, 
the  odor  of  the  flowers  growing  in  the  shade !    How 

253 


254  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

they  send  their  fragrant  souls  out  to  welcome  me! 
I  wonder  If  they  were  fragrant  while  I  was  gone! 

''Lower  the  cot/*  she  said,  "and  let  me  touch 
them  again.  There  I  Ah,  they  bend  their  little 
heads  and  kiss  my  hand.     I  am  so  happy  1'* 

She  fell  back  exhausted  upon  her  pillow,  panting 
with  the  effort. 

"I  can  feel  God  again,"  she  said.  "Dearest," 
turning  to  Waters  her  languid  eyes,  wet  with  tears 
of  joy;  "give  me  your  hand  to  touch.  There!  It 
has  all  come  back  to  me — all  the  beautiful,  quiet 
dreams  that  I  had  lost.  I  shall  get  well  now;  I  am 
so  happy." 

"Yes,  yes,  little  girl,"  said  Waters,  "you  will  get 
well  right  away,  and  play  again,  you  pretty  golden- 
headed  little  butterfly!" 

They  had  reached  the  log  house  that  Waters  had 
built  as  a  palace  for  their  happiness.  The  girl  made 
an  effort  to  raise  herself  again,  but  fell  back  with  a 
little  cry  of  joy. 

The  Autumn  grew  old  apace.  The  leaves  turned 
crimson  and  gold,  and  the  silence  of  the  golden  end 
of  the  year  dwelt  everywhere.  The  Island  Girl  lay 
all  day  on  her  cot,  too  weak  to  be  out  with  the  play- 
mates of  her  childhood.  Everyday  she  grew  frailer, 
more  like  a  tender  little  flower  that  pales  in  a 
shadow. 

Mrs.  Sprangs  and  Waters  were  unwearying  in 
their  attentions  to  her,  and  she  thanked  them  with 
her  deep,  quiet  eyes;  for  she  seldom  spoke  now. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  255 

She  seemed  brooding  over  some  great  mystery  that 
deepened  about  her. 

One  morning  she  awoke  early  and  called  Waters. 

"Won't  you  take  me  out  and  let  me  see  the  sun 
come  up,"  she  said,  "brave  and  glad  and  good  as  it 
used  to  be?  I  think  I  shall  be  stronger  then.  You 
can  carry  me,  can't  you?  You  are  so  strong  and 
good,  and  golden-headed  like  the  sun." 

Waters  wrapped  her  carefully,  and  took  her  in  his 
arms.  She  had  become  very  light, — more  spirit  than 
flesh.  He  carried  her  out  into  the  crisp  Autumn 
morning,  with  her  thin  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Do  you  remember,"  she  whispered  at  his  ear, 
"how  you  swam  with  my  arms  about  your  neck  like 
this,  dear?  You  were  so  strong  and  brave!  That 
was  when  I  learned  that  happiness  hurts." 

"Yes,  yes,  little  woman,"  he  said.  "I  can't  fer- 
git  that.  I'll  always  feel  your  arms  a-clingin'  there ; 
always  feel  you  breathin'  on  my  face  I  That  was 
when  my  little  butterfly  changed  into  a  woman,  my 
little  golden  butterfly  1" 

"Always,  dear?"  she  whispered;  "you  will  always 
remember?  For  I  feel  as  though  I  am  going  a  long 
way  off  soon — so  far  awayl — where  he  is.  Re- 
member it  always,  and  I  will  be  so  happy  there,  even 
though  it  is  all  Winter  and  the  Spring  never  comes." 

Waters  sobbed,  and  kissed  the  weak  clinging 
arms. 

They  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  bluff,  sancti- 
fied with  memories. 


256  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Now  we^U  set  down  here  under  this  lonesome 
old  scrub  oak  and  wait  for  the  sun,"  Waters  said; 
and  he  sat  down,  holding  her  to  his  breast  like  a 
little  child. 

"Do  you  remember  how  you  came  to  me  under 
this  tree,  dear?"  she  said.  "It  seems  so  long  ago, 
so  long  ago;  although  it  was  not  long,  was  it?" 

They  talked  together  like  old  people  who  had 
played  together  in  youth,  going  over  all  the  little 
things  that  they  had  done  together.  And  Waters' 
heart  ached;  for  he  felt  the  deepening  of  the 
mystery. 

As  they  talked,  the  dawn  slipped  up  out  of  the 
clear,  autumnal  sky  and  bathed  them  in  light.  The 
girl  gave  a  little  cry  of  joy  and  endeavored  to  stand 
up,  but  could  not. 

"Oh,  the  good  old  Sun!"  she  cried,  with  a  voice 
grown  thin;  "how  kind  and  warm  and  strong  he 
is  I" 

And  she  began  to  sing  in  a  plaintive,  quavering 
voice  the  paean  to  the  sun  which  Waters  had  heard 
her  singing  at  sunset  in  the  Spring.  Her  voice  broke 
as  it  arose  to  an  ecstatic  note. 

"I  can  not  sing  any  more,"  she  gasped,  as  if  in 
fright.  "I  feel  so  old — so  old  that  I  can  not  sing. 
Take  me  back  and  let  me  lie  down.  I  am  so  old,  so 
tired."    And  Waters  bore  her  back  to  the  house. 


X 

The  Sunset 

The  Fall  passed  and  the  cold  winds  came,  wrap- 
ping the  great  valley  in  fog.  The  sick  girl  did  not 
leave  the  house  now.  She  lay  all  day  exhausted  upon 
her  couch;  and  Waters  watched  over  her  continu- 
ally, trying  to  be  sunny,  for  a  dull  light,  as  of  a  fog, 
was  slowly  settling  over  her  face. 

The  Winter  came,  and  the  great  river  was  locked 
with  ice.  The  cold  fingers  of  the  snow  hushed  the 
wilderness,  and  Waters  kept  the  fireplace  roaring 
merrily;  but  he  could  not  drive  away  the  subtler 
Winter  of  the  heart  that  grew  apace  even  in  the 
heat  of  the  dancing  flames. 

Christmas  passed,  and  January  came  with  storms 
that  howled  and  moaned  down  the  valley.  Day  by 
day  the  sick  girl  had  grown  weaker,  until  at  last  she 
lay  for  hours  in  a  lethargy,  staring  with  unmean- 
ing eyes  at  the  ceiling.  Mrs.  Sprangs  ever  moved 
about  in  her  patient,  quiet  way,  looking  after  Mrs. 
Waters  and  the  child,  cooking,  cleaning,  always  kind 
and  capable. 

The  child,  June,  had  grown  to  look  upon  her  as 

257 


258  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

its  mother.  She  alone  could  quiet  it;  and  Waters 
often  sat  in  the  awful  quiet  that  clung  about  the 
place,  watching  with  wistful  eyes  the  kind,  careworn, 
motherly  face  bent  above  the  baby  nestled  at  her 
breast. 

Late  one  night  in  February,  as  Waters  and  Mrs. 
Sprangs  sat  beside  the  bed,  the  girl  opened  her  eyes 
wearily,  and  reached  out  a  hand  to  Waters.  "I 
think,"  she  said  slowly  and  faintly,  *'I  am  going  far 
off  to-night.  I  feel  so  quiet  and  tired  and  old.  Hold 
my  hand  till  I  go." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  a  strange  light  went 
across  her  face.  She  fell  into  a  nervous  sleep. 
Waters  sat  holding  her  hand  until  midnight.  The 
strange  light  still  dwelt  upon  her  face.  A  thought 
that  she  would  never  waken  came  to  Waters.  He 
kissed  her  and  a  teardrop  fell  upon  her  face.  The 
sick  girl  wearily  opened  her  eyes,  and  smiled.  She 
began  speaking  slowly,  and  her  voice  seemed  to  come 
from  some  great  distance,  weirdly  musical  as  the 
faint  wailing  of  the  violins  in  an  orchestra  when  the 
last  act  passes  on  the  dimly  lighted  stage. 

*'I  dreamed  the  sweetest  dream  just  now.  I  was 
a  windflower  growing  by  the  great  spring;  and  I 
was  the  only  one  in  all  the  world,  and  it  was  Spring- 
time. There  was  a  soft  southwind  blowing,  and  it 
blew  for  me  alone;  for  I  was  the  only  flower  in  all 
the  world.  I  heard  it  singing  far  above  me  in  the 
trees;  and  I  saw  it  stoop  and  kiss  the  pool  beside  me, 
until  the  water  rippled  and  smiled.    The  sun  looked 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  259 

in  through  a  rift  in  the  leaves  and  kissed  me,  for  I 
was  the  only  flower  there  was  left.  It  was  all  my 
sun.  But  I  was  only  a  little  windflower  and  the 
sun's  kisses  were  so  hot.  I  felt  my  petals  wilt;  but 
the  pain  was  so  sweet,  because  the  sun  did  not  mean 
to  hurt  me.  And  then,  when  it  seemed  I  was  about 
to  die,  a  raindrop  fell  upon  my  face,  and  I  was  so 
happy  that  I  awoke — and  I  am  not  sick  any  more — 
ami?" 

Waters  wiped  his  eye  with  his  big  rough  hand, 
and  struggled  with  a  sob  far  down  in  his  throat. 
With  a  great  effort  he  smiled  upon  her,  but  did  not 
answer. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  her  face  lighting  up,  *'that  is  the 
way  the  sun  smiled  when  I  was  a  little  flower  by  the 
great  spring,  the  only  little  flower  in  all  the  world." 

**You  are  the  only  little  flower  of  all  the  world," 
said  Waters,  kissing  her.  "And  I  went  and  pulled 
you  up  where  you  was  a-growin'  happy,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

"Listen  I"  whispered  the  sick  girl,  endeavoring 
vainly  to  raise  herself  upon  her  elbows;  "don't  you 
hear  it?" 

"What,  little  woman?"  said  Waters. 

"The  river  lapping  on  the  sand.  Why,  you  must 
hear  it;  it  is  so  plain."  She  listened  intently  for 
some  time,  with  a  soft  light  in  her  eyes.  "And  the 
wind  is  singing  in  the  trees.  It  must  be  evening,  be- 
cause the  birds  are  chirping  low  as  they  do  in  the 
evening.    Why,  of  course  it  is  evening.    SeeT* 


26o  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

With  a  great  effort  she  raised  herself  upon  her 
elbows,  and  gazed  at  the  wall  with  wide,  glaring 
eyes  as  if  a  great  light  had  dazzled  her. 

**It's  the  sun  setting!"  she  cried.  "Seel  It  burns 
the  hills  and  sets  the  river  aflame.  There  I  It  slips 
under  the  hills !  Look  where  the  cloud  catches  fire  I 
Ah — it  has — died — the  fire.  The  river — is  grow- 
ing— black.  When  the  dull  red  dies  it  will  soon  be 
night.  Look!  The  sky  has  faded,  it  is  growing 
pale.     It — is — gone." 

Exhausted,  she  fell  back  upon  her  pillow,  with 
short,  rapid  breaths  that  momentarily  grew  feebler. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  drew  a  deep  sigh.  Her  eye- 
lids and  lips  twitched  feebly,  and  then  were  still. 

Waters  placed  his  lips  to  the  white  lips  of  tjie  girl, 
but  felt  no  breath.  He  dropped  his  head  upon  the 
quiet  breast  of  the  girl  and  sobbed. 

It  might  have  been  ten  minutes;  it  might  have 
been  ten  years;  for  Waters  had  lost  the  sense  of 
time,  when  he  was  aroused  from  his  dumb  grief  by  a 
hand  laid  gently  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  soft  voice 
behind  him. 

"Mr.  Waters,  you  must  go  away  awhile;  I  will 
look  after  her.     Please  go  away." 

Waters  heard  the  words  as  in  a  dream.  Dazedly 
he  arose  and  stared  at  Mrs.  Sprangs.  Slowly  the 
meaning  of  the  words  crept  into  his  brain  like  a  com- 
mand to  be  obeyed.  Staring  straight  ahead  of  him, 
he  walked  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the  house. 
He  was  conscious  only  of  a  command;  the  gentle 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  261 

words  pushed  him  as  from  behind.  Like  a  somnam- 
bulist, he  took  the  path  leading  out  to  the  frozen 
river  and  the  night.  He  felt  nothing  but  a  terrible 
vague  sense  of  uneasiness,  like  that  the  heavy  silence 
produces  in  one  lying  half  awake  at  midnight.  Only 
this  and  some  strong  but  gentle  words  commanding 
him  to  go. 

Wearily  his  brain  seemed  endeavoring  to  arouse 
some  latent  memory.  What  was  he  trying  to  think 
of?  He  stopped  and  rubbed  his  brow  in  bewilder- 
ment. Ah  yes;  go  away;  that  was  it.  He  began 
walking  rapidly,  then  broke  into  a  trot,  his  wooden 
stump  thumping  weirdly  in  the  crisp,  starlit  night. 
Soon  his  hop  and  skip  increased  to  a  breathless  run. 
He  ran  out  onto  the  snow-clad,  frozen  river.  There 
was  something  behind  him  that  he  was  fleeing  from. 
He  could  not  think  what  it  was;  but  it  was  terrible. 
He  had  a  strong  desire  to  turn  his  head  and  look 
behind,  but  the  thought  sent  cold  chills  up  his  spine. 

As  he  ran,  the  exertion  sent  the  blood  to  his  brain, 
and  slowly  his  normal  consciousness  returned.  He 
slackened  his  pace  to  a  slow  walk,  feeling  as  a  man 
who  has  been  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  head.  He 
stopped  and  looked  about  him.  Where  was  he?  A 
white  waste  and  the  night  were  about  him.  Why 
had  he  wandered  out  here?  Someone  had  told  him 
to  come.  Why?  He  passed  his  hand  across  his 
brow;  it  was  cold  and  damp.  Something  had  hap- 
pened; what  was  it?  Then  slowly  like  the  memory 
of  an  old  bitterness,  the  whole  thing  came  back.    He 


262  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

sobbed,  and  feeling  a  sudden  weakness,  sat  down  in 
the  frozen  snow. 

How  different  the  world  had  been  a  few  months 
before.  Then  It  was  swathed  In  the  flame  of  sun- 
rise; now  it  was  wrapped  In  still,  pale  night,  awful 
as  death.  In  the  painful  hush,  the  complaining 
cries  of  coyotes  arose  like  the  voices  of  his  own 
soul.  How  still  and  empty  the  night  was — and  the 
world  I 

Suddenly  the  face  of  the  dead  girl  grew  up  be- 
fore him.  He  got  up  totterlngly.  The  face  moved 
away  from  him  down  the  river.  He  followed,  walk- 
ing rapidly.  Still  the  face  went  ahead,  faster  than 
he  could  follow.  He  ran,  and  It  fled  dizzily  ahead 
of  him  into  the  night,  eluding  his  nervous  hands 
extended  to  touch  It.  His  speed  became  a  panic 
flight.  Once  he  stumbled  and  fell;  he  got  to  his 
feet  with  the  strange  terror  increased.  Breathing 
heavily,  he  proceeded  in  his  vain  pursuit.  The  pain 
of  labored  breathing  aroused  him.  The  face  van- 
ished, and  there  was  only  the  star-lit,  empty  night, 
the  silent,  white  spaces,  ironically  calm. 

Where  had  he  been  going,  that  he  should  go  so 
fast?  Who  could  run  fast  enough  to  overtake  a 
soul  released?  He  stopped  and  stared  Into  the 
sky.  There  was  no  change  In  the  heavens.  Orion, 
in  the  breathless  pause  of  midnight,  gazed  compla- 
cently toward  dawn.  A  big  star  in  the  south  looked 
upon  him  like  a  quiet  eye.  With  luminous  gasco- 
nade, a  sudden  meteor  flaunted  its  tawdry  flame  be- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  263 

fore  a  myriad  stars — and  disappeared.  Clothed  in 
the  awful  sublimity  of  isolation,  each  far  sun  con- 
jured its  own  light  in  the  universe  of  darkness.  Aus- 
tere and  alone,  they  cast  about  them  each  its  own 
sufficient  day.  Calmly  they  looked  down  upon  him, 
as  if  to  say:  ^'Trouble  exists  at  the  centres  of  hori- 
zons :  we  see  so  far  that  we  are  calm  I'* 

And  Waters  wondered  at  their  quietness.  Could 
they  not  see  her  lying  there,  pale  and  still?  He  sat 
down  again  to  gather  his  wits.  He  drew  his  watch 
from  his  pocket,  but  could  not  see  the  time,  so  he 
lit  a  match  and  held  it  within  the  housing  of  his 
hands  until  it  burned  big.  It  was  one  o'clock.  The 
match  went  out. 

How  dark  it  had  made  the  night — the  little  match 
flame  I  It  blotted  out  the  stars.  Ah,  the  darkness 
of  a  little  light ! 

Again  he  looked  upward.  The  darkening  effect 
of  the  brief  flame  passed  slowly,  but  one  tear  choked 
the  heavens  with  mist.  As  he  sat  and  gazed,  the 
tear  slipped  from  his  eyelids,  and  lo!  the  heavens 
were  vast  and  clear  and  kind! 

A  great  peace  descended  upon  him.  It  was  the 
same  peace  that  had  come  to  him  out  of  the  thun- 
derstorm. Something  great  and  warm  wrapped  him 
about.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  walked  back  to  the 
island. 

When  he  entered  the  room  of  death,  he  found 
Mrs.  Sprangs  sitting  beside  the  bed,  holding  his 
sleeping  child.     Upon  the  bed  lay  the   one  little 


264  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

flower  of  all  the  world,  cold  and  colorless  as  a  lily. 
During  his  absence,  Mrs.  Sprangs,  ever  practical 
and  capable,  had  washed  and  dressed  the  frail  form. 
The  thin  hands  were  crossed  upon  the  quiet  breast, 
and  the  glorious  hair  was  arranged  carefully  about 
her  face,  that  seemed  a  wedge  of  carved  ivory  in 
a  mass  of  gold. 

Without  a  word,  Waters  sat  down  beside  the  bed, 
and  looked  upon  the  beautiful  dead.  He  rested 
his  face  in  his  hands,  and  became  lost  in  reverie. 
Some  time  after,  he  felt  a  soft  hand  laid  upon  his 
hair.  He  lifted  his  head  and  looked  into  the  pa- 
tient, sympathetic  face  of  Mrs.  Sprangs.  In  her  left 
arm  she  held  his  child,  and  her  right  hand  still  rested 
on  his  head. 

In  that  moment  a  something,  like  and  unlike  love, 
went  out  from  his  soul  to  the  woman  before  him. 
It  was  not  the  burning  love  that  he  had  felt  for 
the  girl  now  quiet  before  him.  It  was  more  the 
child's  yearning  toward  the  mother,  such  as  he  had 
felt  when  he  first  met  her. 

And  as  Waters  sat  between  the  living  and  the 
dead,  with  his  soul  yearning  toward  both,  he  felt  no 
shame.  For  he  knew  that  she,  who  lay  so  still  and 
white  beside  him,  could  not  be  jealous  if  she  knew. 


XI 

The  Resurrection 

Waters  made  a  grave  on  the  summit  of  the  bluff, 
where  the  frail  flower,  that  had  left  the  mysterious 
Winter  of  the  world  to  seek  the  Spring  further 
away  than  April,  might  feel  the  sunrise  and  the  sun- 
set that  she  loved.  The  isolated  scrub  oak,  bent 
and  gnarled  with  the  stress  of  many  storms,  stood 
a  patient  guard  above  her  resting-place. 

The  lonesome  latter  days  of  the  Winter  moved 
slowly,  and  the  great  optimistic  Heart  of  the  World 
beat  bravely  toward  the  Spring.  Waters  wandered 
about,  lost  in  reverie;  exhausting  his  strength  in 
long  aimless  rambles  up  and  down  the  frozen  river 
and  in  the  snow^hushed  timber.  He  seemed  seeking 
something  hidden  in  the  haze  of  distance — some- 
thing pure  and  sweet  that  ever  eluded  him.  But 
when  he  returned  from  his  long  rambles  to  gaze 
upon  the  face  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  bent  above  his  child, 
his  heart  softened,  and  he  felt  toward  her  as  a  child 
that  cries  for  its  mother  in  the  night. 

"Come  and  play  with  June,"  she  would  say 
in  her  low,  softly  modulated  voice.     "See,  she  has 

265 


a66  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  great  blue  innocent  eyes  of  her  mother,  and  she 
will  have  the  hair,  too.  You  will  be  allowed  to 
live  it  all  over  again." 

And  Waters  would  smile,  gazing  with  dimmed 
eyes  upon  the  kind  face.  Day  by  day  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  discovered  something  new  and  beauti- 
ful in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Sprangs — the  something 
sweet  and  pure  that  eluded  him  in  his  long  rambles. 
Could  it  be  that  the  spirit  of  the  dead  mother  had 
re-arisen  in  the  face  of  the  older  woman  who  had 
become  as  the  mother  of  his  child? 

The  feeling  grew  upon  Waters  until  it  became 
so  strong  that  he  was  afraid  of  it.  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  he  had  so  soon  forgotten  the  little  flower 
that  he  had  laid  away?  Ah,  no;  it  seemed  rather 
that  the  faded  flower  re-blossomed  in  the  face  of 
the  good  woman,  and  he  loved  it.  "Not  Mrs. 
Sprangs,"  he  would  mutter  to  himself;  "no,  not  her; 
it's  jest  because  I  can  half  see  the  little  dead  woman 
a-lookin'  out  of  her  eyes;  that's  all." 

And  yet  he  felt  a  thrill  of  warmth,  and  found 
peace  only  when  he  was  near  her.  He  spent  many 
hours  out  of  doors  examining  his  own  thoughts. 
He  would  pace  for  hours  up  and  down  on  the  bleak, 
cold  summit  of  the  bluff,  talking  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  to  her  who  could  no  longer  hear.  Or  did  she 
hear?    It  almost  seemed  that  she  could. 

"Do  you  blame  me,  little  butterfly?"  he  would 
say.  "You  know  I  hain't  fergot  you.  You  know  I 
can't  never  ferget  you.    She  seems  jest  like  you  was 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  267 

in  her  a-callin'  to  me,  little  woman,  and  I  can't  help 
hearini  Shall  I  tell  her  sometime?  Would  it 
make  you  sad  where  you  are?  Can't  you  let  me 
know  some  way? 

*'No,  no,"  he  would  mutter,  "I  must  run  away; 
I  must  finish  up  livin'  alone,  like  I  begun.  Oh,  I 
wisht  the  ice'd  break  up  and  the  Spring'd  come  I 
Then  I'd  run  away  from  myself,  'cause  I  don't  want 
to  do  what  ain't  right." 

Many  long  hours,  when  the  warm  days  came,  he 
watched  the  river  for  the  first  signs  of  breaking  up, 
the  rending  of  the  chains,  the  liberation  of  the  sleep- 
ing giant.  It  would  not  be  long  after  the  ice  cleared, 
until  some  boat  that  wintered  in  the  north  would 
pass;  and  then  he  would  take  Mrs.  Sprangs  back  to 
Calhoun.  He  would  pay  her  well  to  take  care  of 
his  child.  She  would  not  need  to  work.  Then  he 
would  go  on  to  St.  Louis,  and  take  charge  of  his 
own  boat.  He  would  hide  himself  far  away  from 
his  temptation. 

March  came,  and  the  northward  moving  sun  made 
the  days  soft  and  warm.  The  popping  and  groaning 
and  whining  of  the  ice-bound  river  heralded  the 
Spring  like  trumpets.  The  great  stream  struggled 
prodigiously,  hurling  its  clanking  chains  aside,  fight- 
ing with  all  of  its  gigantic  optimism  toward  the  Sum- 
mer; roaring  and  growling  with  the  good  lust  of 
strength,  as  it  rode  down  all  obstacles,  and  ran 
to  meet  the  coming  sun  with  boisterous  laughter. 

*That's  right  I"  Waters  would  cry;  "kick  it  out'n 


268  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  way,  you  good  old  shaggy  feller  I  Smash  it  up 
and  shake  yourself,  you  old  Sleepy  Head!  It's 
been  holdin*  you  down  too  long!  YouVe  too  big 
and  strong  and  brave  to  lay  tied  onto  your  backl 
Bully  for  you  I  Toss  it  up,  and  show  it  how  strong 
you  are,  you  big,  good-natured  old  giant ! 

"Bully!  Bully!  Bully!  Oh,  you  got  a  strong 
heart,  and  you're  a  good  fighter.  You  won't  never 
give  up  till  you  get  to  the  Summer.  Bully  for  you  I 
Bully!  Bully!" 

The  colossal  struggle  went  on  for  days,  until  at 
last  the  cause  of  Summer  won,  and  the  great  giant 
purred  in  the  contentment  that  follows  a  worthy 
victory.  And  Waters  began  straining  ear  and  eye 
for  a  south-bound  steamer.  All  had  been  prepared 
for  leaving  the  island,  and  Waters  spent  many  hours 
upon  the  summit,  saying  farewell  to  her  who  slept 
under  the  thin  shade  of  the  gnarled  old  sentinel. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  leaves  were  beginning  to 
burst  from  the  bud,  and  the  faint  fragrance  of  early 
blossoms  grew  up  out  of  the  woodland  depths,  the 
steamboat  came.  Waters  hailed  it,  and  the  three 
went  aboard. 

As  it  pulled  away  into  the  current,  with  the  en- 
gine groaning  and  moaning,  he  stood  at  the  stern, 
and  watched  the  island  dwindle  into  a  strip  of  green. 
Then  at  last  it  became  but  a  blur,  above  which  the 
bald  bluff  reared  its  head,  glinting  in  the  afternoon 
sun  that  dwelt  upon  its  summit  like  a  golden  mem- 
ory.   Then  this  passed,  and  there  were  only  the  mo- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  269 

notonous  bluffs  on  either  side,  and  stretches  of  lone- 
some prairie;  the  heavy  sigh  of  the  waters  rushing 
from  the  wheels,  and  the  sobbing  of  the  engine. 

For  a  long  time  Waters  stood  leaning  on  the  stern- 
railing,  gazing  into  the  boiling,  yellow  wake.  His 
reverie  was  broken  by  his  own  sobbing.  He  straight- 
ened himself,  shook  his  shoulders,  as  if  tossing  off 
some  heavy  weight. 

"Come,  Waters,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  "you  got 
to  shake  it  off  like  the  river  did.  You've  got  to  keep 
on  livin'  and  doin'  the  best  you  can,  and  go  on  hunt- 
in*  for  the  Summer.  You  wouldn't  be  good  enough 
to  remember  her,  if  you  went  on  settin'  up  there 
on  that  bluff,  and  cryin'  bitter  into  the  lonesome 
sky.»» 

And  he  turned  and  walked  with  a  firm  tread  for- 
ward to  where  Mrs.  Sprangs  sat  on  the  forward 
deck,  holding  his  child,  and  gazing  down  the  yellow 
expanse  of  the  river. 

"Mrs.  Sprangs,"  he  said,  sitting  down  beside  her; 
"Fm  goin'  on  to  St.  Louis,  and  get  my  boat  and 
make  the  trip  north  this  Summer.  If  you'll  take 
care  of  the  little  girl,  I'll  pay  you  good  for  it,  and 
then  I'll  make  some  way  for  takin'  her  off  your 
hands." 

Mrs.  Sprangs  turned  to  him  with  eyes  suddenly 
grown  dim. 

"Will  you  take  her  away  from  me,  Mr.  Waters? 
You  said  you  felt  like  a  father  to  the  boy;  let  me 
be  a  mother  to  the  girl,  won't  you?" 


270  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Waters  looked  upon  the  winsome,  motherly  face, 
and  a  great  wild  desire  to  take  her  In  his  arms  shook 
him  like  a  strong  wind. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said.  "God  made  such  women  as 
you  for  mothers.*'  And  he  got  up  and  hurried  away 
to  the  stern  again. 

"I  seen  her  then!"  he  said  aloud  to  the  yellow, 
boiling  wake,  "I  seen  her  in  Mrs.  Sprangs*  face  I" 


PART  FOUR 
TOWARD  THE  SUMMER 

I 

The  Race  With  Dread 

Waters'  freight  steamboat,  Island  Girl,  had  made 
a  prosperous  trip.  Starting  from  St.  Louis  late  in 
the  Spring,  she  had  delivered  her  cargo  of  freight 
at  various  points  along  the  river,  and  arrived  at 
Fort  Benton  in  the  early  part  of  July.  Waters  had 
spent  the  remainder  of  the  Summer  trading  his  stock 
of  merchandise  for  furs. 

As  the  Fall  was  now  far  advanced,  and  the 
Island  Girl,  a  slow  boat,  heavily  laden  with  a  valu- 
able cargo.  Waters  hesitated  to  begin  the  trip  south, 
as  there  was  always  the  possibility  of  delays,  and 
the  prairie  Winter  might  come  down  sooner  than 
expected,  blocking  the  river  with  ice. 

A  great  lonesomeness  had  come  upon  Waters. 
Now  that  his  Summer's  task  was  finished,  he  longed 
to  be  back  at  Calhoun.  One  picture  was  continu- 
ally before  him — the  picture  of  Mrs.  Sprangs  hold- 
ing his  child.     He  gazed  often  upon  the  first  notch 

271 


272  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

in  his  wooden  leg,  and  dreamed  vague,  golden 
dreams.  What  could  she  have  meant  that  Spring 
afternoon,  when  she  spoke  so  tenderly  of  his  child? 

Did  it  mean  that  the  same  sun,  which  had  set 
when  the  mother  of  his  child  died,  had  risen  in  the 
eyes  of  the  mother  who  lived?  In  the  isolation  of 
his  thoughts,  the  idea  grew  stronger  and  more  beau- 
tiful. It  became  dominant;  it  was  with  him  all 
through  the  day,  and  at  night  it  did  not  sleep. 

The  thought  of  the  lonesome  Winter  of  waiting 
was  terrible.  At  times  he  felt  a  foolish  desire  to 
leave  the  boat  and  cargo  at  Benton,  and  fly  across 
the  prairies  afoot.  At  times  he  felt  a  strange  anger 
at  the  sixteen  hundred  sordid  miles  that  lay  between 
him  and  her  who  had  become  as  an  incarnation  of 
the  dead  woman  of  the  island. 

But  was  it  not  wrong  for  him  to  think  so?  Had 
he  not  fled  from  his  temptation,  and  should  he  be 
conquered  now? 

Waters  strolled  about,  day  after  day,  and  still 
the  longing  for  the  south  and  what  it  held  for  him 
grew  stronger.  Among  the  boats  that  lay  in  the 
river,  was  the  John  H.  Lucas.  Waters  renewed  his 
acquaintance  with  the  captain,  a  jovial  companion, 
and  they  were  much  together.  In  his  lonesomeness 
and  longing,  he  made  a  confidant  of  the  captain, 
telling  him,  in  long  rambles  together,  the  story  of 
his  life. 

"Do  you  think  Fd  ought  to  go  back,  cap'n?'*  asked 
Waters. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  273 

The  captain  slapped  Waters  upon  the  back  and 
laughed  merrily. 

*'Go  back?'*  said  he;  **why,  yes,  man!  Should 
a  man  run  from  happiness?  If  the  Lucas  was  go- 
ing south  this  Fall,  I'd  have  you  gagged  and  chained 
and  brought  aboard;  and  I'd  deliver  you  with  care 
to  the  enchanting  widow  of  Calhoun!  Go  back? 
Do  you  think  she  wants  you  to  stay  away?"  And 
he  laughed  pleasantly. 

So,  as  the  golden  days  of  October  ran  slowly 
toward  the  Winter,  Waters  became  more  and  more 
Impatient.  One  morning  when  he  approached  the 
Lucas,  lying  at  the  bank,  to  take  his  habitual  stroll 
with  the  captain,  he  saw  that  the  boat  had  steam  up, 
and  that  she  gave  signs  of  life  after  her  long  nap. 

The  captain  met  him  at  the  gang-plank. 

''Going  to  force  me  to  bind  and  gag  you,  Mr. 
Waters?"  he  said.  "We're  starting  south  on  un- 
expected business  for  the  Fort.  We'll  cast  off  at 
noon,  and  I'm  determined  to  deliver  you  up  at  Cal- 
houn 1" 

Waters  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

'Til  go,"  he  said  at  length.  "The  mate  can  bring 
the  Island  Girl  down  In  the  Spring." 

As  the  Lucas  pulled  out  into  the  stream  at  noon, 
Waters  felt  the  lightness  of  heart  that  a  carrier 
pigeon  must  feel  when  It  Is  released  In  a  strange 
land.  The  home-sense  seemed  compelling  him 
southward.  The  Lucas  being  a  small  boat  with  no 
cargo  to  handle  on  the  trip,  carried  but  ten  men; 


274  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  captain,  two  pilots,  two  engineers,  three  deck 
hands,  a  cook,  and  Waters,  the  only  passenger. 
During  the  first  few  days  the  boat  made  good  time, 
running  far  Into  the  night  by  moonlight.  But  one 
night  a  submerged  snag  struck  a  paddle-wheel,  shat- 
tering it  and  carrying  away  the  wheel-house.  Dur- 
ing the  five  days  the  Lucas  was  laying  up  at  the 
bank  for  repairs.  Waters  contributed  his  skill  as 
ship  carpenter  toward  building  a  new  wheel  and 
replacing  the  house.  Thus  he  became  acquainted 
with  the  head  engineer,  James  Hanway. 

Hanway  was  a  man  of  about  forty  years;  flat- 
chested,  short  In  stature  and  slenderly  built.  He 
walked  and  talked  nervously.  His  face  was  one  of 
almost  feminine  delicacy,  strangely  out  of  harmony 
with  the  element  about  him.  From  the  broad,  high, 
prominent  forehead,  that  overhung  deep-set  sad 
eyes,  it  narrowed  regularly  to  the  chin,  the  weakness 
of  which  contrasted  strongly  with  the  upper  part  of 
the  face.  His  nose  was  long  and  delicately  formed, 
with  a  slight  fullness  at  the  nostrils.  And  over  all 
the  face  lingered  an  expression  of  nervous  expect- 
ancy, that  seemed  like  a  veil  ever  about  to  be  lifted, 
displaying  some  terrible  latent  passion.  Something 
In  the  man's  face  won  Waters'  heart.  Perhaps  this 
was  because  his  own  life  of  soul-hunger  seemed  mir- 
rored in  the  wan  face  and  sad  eyes  of  Hanway. 

After  the  repairing  of  the  shattered  wheel-house, 
the  two  were  much  together.  Waters  spending  many 
hours   in  the   engine   room.     With   their  growing 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  275 

friendship,  Hanway,  ordinarily  taciturn,  talked 
much.  He  betrayed  a  breadth  of  culture  rarely 
found  in  a  river  engineer.  Yet  he  seemed  to  be 
swayed  by  one  thought.  His  conversation  turned 
inevitably  to  his  son,  Lucien,  whom  he  had  left  in 
St.  Louis. 

"An  unusual  boy,  Mr.  Waters,"  said  Hanway  one 
day;  '*an  unusual  boy,  I  think.  He  is  only  eight 
years  old,  and  yet  he  has  displayed  rare  gifts.  You 
are  near  the  gauge,  Mr.  Waters.  How  much  steam 
are  we  carrying? 

*'He  will  be  a  great  man  some  day,"  continued 
Hanway;  "and  then  all  I  have  hoped  for  myself, 
and  failed,  will  not  matter.  How  much  did  you 
say?" 

"One  hundred  sixty-five  pounds!"  said  Waters, 
who  had  been  studying  the  steam-gauge  with  a 
troubled  face.     "How  much  do  you  gener'ly  carry?" 

"One  hundred  fifty,"  muttered  Hanway  dreamily, 
as  though  his  thoughts  were  far  away. 

"My  God,  man!  Who  tied  the  valve  down? 
She'll  blow  up!"  cried  Waters. 

"I  did,"  Hanway  answered  quietly.  "And  still 
it  was  not  Hanway  the  engineer;  Hanway  the 
father,  I  guess;  Hanway  the  mother,  too,  for  his 
mother  is  dead.  You  may  release  the  valve.  You 
see,"  he  continued  in  the  same  nervous  weary  voice, 
"a  strange  premonition  tortures  me  at  times.  It 
seems  I  will  never  get  back  to  St.  Louis  again;  never 
see  the  boy  again.     At  those  times  I  want  to  give 


276  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

wings  to  the  old  Lucas,    God  I  how  she  creeps  I    If 

the  ice  should  catch  us,  I  know  I  should  never " 

The  rushing  of  steam  from  the  released  valve 
drowned  the  words.  *'How  she  creeps!"  muttered 
Hanway,  pacing  up  and  down  the  engine  room. 

The  next  day  another  delay  occurred.  A  defect- 
ive boiler  made  it  necessary  for  the  Lucas  to  lay  up 
for  repairs  again.  Hanway  worked  at  the  boilers 
nervously.  When  anyone  spoke  to  him,  he  answered 
peevishly  like  a  child,  or  stared  blankly. 

During  the  second  delay,  a  damp  cold  wind  blew 
up  from  the  northeast,  and  by  evening  a  heavy  snow 
storm  had  set  in.  All  night  the  two  engineers  and 
Waters  worked  at  the  boilers.  Hanway  grew  more 
nervous  and  abstracted.  "Hurry,  hurry!"  he  would 
mutter  to  himself;    **the  ice  is  coming." 

The  next  morning  the  Lucas  again  started  south, 
now  obliged  to  feel  her  way  on  account  of  the  heavy 
snow.  She  had  already  left  Benton  400  miles  be- 
hind. The  sudden  cold  wave  might  not  last  long, 
as  it  was  only  the  middle  of  November.  Two  days 
passed;  the  cold  increased  and  the  snow  stopped. 
The  nights  were  cloudy,  and  the  Lucas  was  obliged 
to  run  only  by  day.  Hanway  grew  more  excited, 
though  he  said  nothing.  He  did  not  leave  his  engine, 
but  continually  inspected  every  part  of  the  strained 
machinery,  carrying  every  pound  of  steam  she  would 
hold.  He  was  racing  with  Dread.  The  boat  flying 
down  stream  like  a  chip  in  a  flood,  trembled  with 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  277 

the  throb  of  the  plethoric  chests.  Once  the  cap- 
tain, startled  by  the  quivering  of  the  boat,  went 
down  into  the  engine  room.  Hanway,  his  face 
flushed  with  the  heat  of  the  boiler,  stood  before  the 
steam-gauge  with  his  eyes  riveted  upon  the  rising 
indicator. 

**How  much  are  you  carrying,  Mr.  Hanway?" 
asked  the  captain.  Hanway  threw  his  hat  over  the 
gauge,  picked  up  a  shovel,  and  his  face  was  demo- 
niacal as  he  turned  menacingly  toward  the  captain. 
His  voice  was  low  and  vibrant. 

*'Go  to  helir^  he  said,  his  upper  lip  raised,  expos- 
ing his  teeth  like  a  wolf  at  bay. 

The  captain  withdrew,  walking  backward. 

"Something's  gone  wrong  with  Hanway,"  said  the 
captain  to  a  group  on  deck.  "He's  going  to  blow 
her  up.  Mr.  Waters,  won't  you  go  down  and  see 
if  you  can  do  something  with  him?  Maybe  he'll 
listen  to  you.    If  he  don't,  something  must  be  done." 

In  the  old  river  days  a  licensed  engineer  was  an 
autocrat  in  the  engine  room,  and  frequently  took 
matters  in  his  own  hands. 

When  Waters  entered  the  engine  room,  he  saw 
that  the  valve  had  been  tied  down  again.  Hanway 
stood  staring  at  the  gauge  with  a  strange  smile  on 
his  face.  He  was  talking  to  the  engine:  "Don't 
give  up  again  I  I  know  it's  a  lot  to  stand,"  he  was 
saying  appealingly;  "but  don't  give  up  again  I  You 
know  what  it  means!"    And  he  laid  his  hand  upon 


278  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  engine  that  panted  with  its  mighty  effort,  patting 
it  caressingly  as  a  kind  rider  might  pat  the  neck  of 
a  thoroughbred  in  a  long  hard  race. 

Waters  went  quietly  to  the  man,  and  laid  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  Hanway  turned  with  a  start, 
and  looked  haggardly  at  Waters. 

*'It's  too  much,  Jim,"  he  said  quietly.  He  re- 
leased the  valve,  and  the  steam  escaped  like  the 
sigh  of  a  weary  monster.  Hanway  sat  down  limply, 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  '*She  creeps  I"  he 
muttered. 

Since  the  snow  had  stopped,  the  temperature  had 
been  falling  rapidly  before  a  keen  wind  driving  from 
the  north.  Hanway's  uneasiness  increased  with  the 
falling  of  the  mercury.  He  vibrated  like  a  pendu- 
lum between  the  steam-gauge  and  the  thermometer 
on  deck.  Hour  by  hour  he  noted  the  ominous 
dwindling  of  the  degrees  toward  zero,  that  seemed 
like  doom  to  him.  36  degrees — 34  degrees — 32  de- 
grees! It  was  freezing  now.  Hanway  returned  to 
his  engine  and  threw  quantities  of  lubricating  oil 
into  the  fire.  Then  he  stood  before  the  gauge, 
watching  the  pulse  of  the  engine  rise  to  a  dangerous 
fever  heat. 

The  captain  haunted  the  engine  room.  "Hold 
her  up,  Mr.  Hanway;  but  for  God's  sake,  be  care- 
full"  he  would  say. 

"Captain,"  Hanway  would  answer  quietly,  "I 
am  a  licensed  engineer." 

31  degrees — 30  degrees — 28  degrees!    The  mer- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  279 

cury  fell  steadily.  On  the  morning  of  the  21st  of 
November,  it  had  reached  two  degrees,  and  the 
bitter  wind  still  blew  from  the  north.  Zero  seemed 
like  death  to  Hanway.  Two  degrees  left  for  life  I 
Hanway  was  racing  with  Winter  and  Death — swift 
and  pitiless  competitors. 

Now  in  what  seemed  the  supreme  hour  to  Han- 
way, his  nervousness  apparently  left  him.  He  spoke 
to  no  one.  Even  when  Waters  entered  the  engine 
room,  he  seemed  to  have  no  knowledge  of  his 
friend's  presence.  He  stared  at  the  gauge,  with  his 
gloved  hand  upon  the  lever  of  the  safety  valve. 
When  the  indicator  rose  to  166,  he  released  steam 
until  it  had  fallen  back  to  165 — no  lower.  His  face 
had  taken  on  something  that  was  almost  sublimity. 
It  was  no  common  fight — this  struggle  of  Hanway's. 
He  fought  huge  foes ;  subtle  insidious  Titans !  The 
frail,  neurotic  pigmy  struggled  with  the  ancient 
giant-foe  of  his  race,  the  Spirit  of  the  North;  and 
there  could  be  no  truce. 

Waters  stood  by,  watching  the  bitter  struggle,  yet 
he  could  give  no  aid.  He,  too,  wanted  to  get  back 
south,  and  could  understand  the  intense  anxiety  of 
his  friend.  As  he  studied  the  face  of  the  dread-rid- 
den engineer,  he  felt  a  great  pity;  because  he  read 
there  a  something  that  he  had  found  in  the  face  of 
Ambrosen — the  longing  of  the  magnificent  fool. 

As  Waters  stood  studying  the  face  of  the  man, 
Hanway  suddenly  turned  and  said: 

"Do  you  believe  in  God?'* 


28o  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Wy,  yes,"  said  Waters  wonderlngly. 

**I  don't.  There's  too  much  bitterness,"  said 
Hanway. 

Waters  made  no  answer.  For  several  minutes 
the  sounds  of  the  furiously  chugging  paddle-wheels 
and  the  sobbing  and  groaning  of  the  engine  seemed 
terribly  loud.  They  were  like  the  tumult  of  the 
battle  that  was  being  fought — great  blows  dealt, 
and  groans  and  sobs  of  giant  pain  I 

"Then  if  you  do,"  said  Hanway,  turning  again  to 
Waters  with  an  intense  white  face;  "swear  this  be- 
fore your  God  to  me.  Swear  that  if  I  die  and  you 
live,  you  will  look  after  my  boy;  for  he  has  no 
mother." 

"W'y,  Jim,  you  hain't  goin'  to  die  I  Brace  up  I" 
Waters  tried  to  laugh  but  failed  dismally. 

"Swear  that!"  cried  Hanway. 

Waters  reached  for  the  hand  of  the  engineer,  his 
eye  soft  and  dimmed. 

"Of  course  I'll  swear  that,  Jim;  I  do  before 
God  I" 

Hanway  took  a  piece  of  notepaper  from  his 
pocket,  and  wrote  an  address  upon  it.  This  he  gave 
to  Waters,  who  put  it  in  his  pocket  carelessly. 

"If  I  should  never  get  through  this,  I  have  given 
you  everything,"  he  said;  then  quietly  turned  to- 
ward his  engine,  and  the  pitiless  fight  went  on. 

During  the  night  of  the  23rd  of  November,  the 
Lucas,  flying  down  stream  under  heavy  pressure, 
suddenly  stopped.    She  had  run  onto  a  bar,  and  her 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  281 

great  speed  had  driven  her  bows  far  upon  the  sand. 
Hanway,  standing  before  his  engine,  was  thrown 
down.  He  got  up  feeling  a  strange  dizziness,  and 
mechanically  shut  down  the  engine.  The  meaning 
of  the  sudden  stop  came  to  him  as  a  heavy  blow  on 
the  head.  His  pitiless  foes  were  upon  him.  He  was 
conquered — in  the  dust!  He  felt  a  strange  weak- 
ness, now  that  the  intense  strain  of  the  long  struggle 
was  past.  The  engine  room  swam  before  him.  He 
sank  to  the  floor  in  a  heap,  and,  in  the  utter  night 
that  engulfed  him,  even  despair  passed. 

After  a  time  he  awoke  dizzily.  Everything 
seemed  changed;  even  he  himself.  The  stillness 
was  like  death.  He  lay  still  for  some  time,  wonder- 
ing. He  could  hear  voices  above;  they  came  faintly 
to  him.  He  was  seized  with  a  sick  fancy.  It  seemed 
that  he  was  already  dead,  and  heard,  in  some  unac- 
countable way,  someone  talking  over  his  grave. 
Then  he  heard  the  creak  of  spars,  and  the  groaning 
of  windlasses.  The  crew  was  making  ready  to  spar 
her  off. 

A  faint  light  came  to  him.  They  would  need 
steam,  he  thought — steam  for  the  capstan.  They 
would  need  it.  He  had  forgotten  about  the  struggle 
he  had  lost.  All  hands  were  on  deck,  so  he  got  up, 
staggered  to  the  engine  and  fired  up.  Then  he  set 
the  pumps  to  working,  and  filled  the  boilers.  All 
this  he  did  as  one  in  his  sleep.  Nothing  really  mat- 
tered now ;  only  they  would  need  steam.  When  the 
boilers  were  filled,  he  stopped  the  pumps,  and  sat 


282  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

down  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  He  heard  dimly 
the  shouting  of  the  crew,  the  creaking  of  the  wind- 
lasses, the  groaning  of  the  spars.  It  was  all  like 
the  sound  from  another  world.    His  fight  was  done. 

He  slept  feverishly  and  awoke  with  a  start.  A 
pale  light  shone  through  the  room,  and  the  lamps 
burned  sickly  in  the  disconsolate  morning.  He  got 
up  and  went  on  deck.  His  face  was  pale,  and  there 
were  blue  circles  under  his  haggard  eyes. 

The  Lucas  was  in  a  hopeless  plight.  During  the 
night,  the  sand  had  collected  about  the  boat,  and  she 
now  lay  on  a  broad,  dry  bar.  It  was  useless  to  try 
to  spar  her  off. 

Hanway  went  listlessly  to  where  the  thermometer 
was  hung.  Five  below  zero!  With  a  ghastly  hu- 
mor, he  smiled  as  he  thought  that  he  had  now  been 
dead  five  degrees ! 

Out  of  the  haggard  east  the  sick  sun  rose.  Han- 
way stared  into  the  sunrise  as  though  it  were  an  un- 
heard of  phenomenon.  He  had  become  the  ghost  of 
the  man  who  fought  with  Titans. 

On  the  26th  of  November  the  ice  began  running, 
making  useless  any  further  attempts  at  releasing  the 
boat.  All  the  night  the  crew  heard  the  crunching 
and  grinding  of  the  ice  about  the  bar,  like  the  sounds 
of  the  forging  of  a  mighty  chain.  The  Winter  had 
won,  and  was  placing  manacles  upon  the  conquered  I 

On  the  morning  of  the  27th,  the  great  stream 
was  choked  with  ice  from  bank  to  bank,  except  in  the 
narrow  channel  where  the  current  was  swiftest.   By 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  283 

the  next  morning  this  had  closed  in,  and  the  whole 
was  frozen  into  a  solid  mass.  The  point  at  which 
the  Lucas  was  grounded  was  nine  hundred  miles 
from  Fort  Benton  and  nine  hundred  from  Sioux 
City.  For  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  east  and  the 
west  lay  the  desolate  prairie. 


II 

The  New  Captain 

During  the  first  week  of  December,  the  tempera- 
ture rose,  and  it  began  to  snow  again.  The  mighty 
river,  a  few  weeks  before  masterful  and  brooking 
no  restraint,  now  lay  quiet  in  its  chains.  There 
was  no  longer  a  river;  there  was  only  a  broad  flat 
valley;  upon  one  side  the  white  bleak  bluffs,  made 
more  lonesome  and  desolate  with  their  straggling 
growth  of  scrub  oaks;  and  upon  the  other  side  a 
long  gentle  slope  of  white,  ending  at  the  indistinct 
rim  of  clouded  Winter  skies. 

Quietly,  steadily  the  snow  fell.  It  was  as  the  in- 
sistent taunting  of  the  Conqueror  Winter,  speaking 
with  ironical  kindness  to  the  vanquished  in  their 
chains.  The  crew  of  the  Lucas,  crushed  by  the  sud- 
den descent  of  the  Winter,  succumbed  to  apathy. 
The  northern  trip  was  tedious  and  lonesome,  and 
their  hearts  had  been  glad  with  the  thought  of  reach- 
ing St.  Louis  before  the  Winter  set  in,  some  longing 
to  be  with  their  families,  and  others  thinking  of  the 
Winter's  round  of  pleasures  in  the  western  metrop- 
olis. 

284 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  285 

There  was  no  little  doubt  as  to  the  boat's  pro- 
visions lasting  until  Spring,  unless  game  could  be 
found,  and  the  heavy  fall  of  snow  made  this  dubious. 
For  a  week  none  stirred  outside  the  boat  which  had 
suddenly  been  transformed  from  a  refuge  to  a 
prison.  The  prisoners  did  not  wish  to  see  the  com- 
pleteness of  their  bondage. 

The  quiet  snow  fell  two  feet  deep  upon  the  decks, 
and  lay  undisturbed.  Only  the  smoke  from  the  fires, 
blending  with  the  snow  maze,  gave  signs  of  life  in 
all  that  silent,  white  immensity. 

During  this  time  Waters  fought  bravely  against 
the  gloom  that  pressed  about  him.  He  was  con- 
stantly with  Hanway,  who  lay  always  in  his  bunk, 
eating  little,  speaking  to  none.  His  face  was  ex- 
pressionless, and  his  eyes  stared  nervelessly  at  the 
wall.  All  Waters'  attempts  to  be  jovial  were  met 
with  a  gaze  that  meant  nothing.  It  was  only  when 
Waters  spoke  of  Lucien,  that  the  engineer,  who  had 
fought  and  lost,  gave  signs  of  intelligence. 

"Now  don't  be  worryin'  yourself  sick,  Jim," 
Waters  would  say  kindly.  *'W'y,  you  hain't  in  a  bad 
way.  You've  jest  got  a  confounded  notion,  that's 
all.  We'll  get  through  this  all  right,  Jim ;  and  then 
you'll  see  him  in  the  Spring.  I've  got  a  little  girl  I 
want  to  see  pretty  bad  myself,  and  I  hain't  gettin' 
sick  over  it,  am  I?" 

Hanway  merely  stared  and  shook  his  head. 

But  in  the  long  nights  when  he  was  lying  alone, 
the  dreadful  hush  of  the  snowbound  world  terrified 


286  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Waters.  Four  months  and  a  thousand  miles  be- 
tween him  and  Calhoun;   between  him  and  his  little 

girl;    between   him    and Then   a    something 

sweet  and  caressing  went  into  his  blood,  and  he  be- 
came strong;  and  in  the  awful  hush  he  heard  a  kind 
voice,  and  in  the  darkness  his  brain  conjured  radi- 
ance. At  such  times  the  haunting  fears  that  were 
bred  of  the  Silence  and  the  Dark,  ceased  to  torture 
him.  He  believed  no  more  in  the  possible  dangers 
of  the  Winter — famine,  disease,  and  with  these, 
death. 

But  again  when  he  awoke  to  feel  the  faded,  dis- 
consolate dawn  creeping  in  through  the  white  silence, 
the  radiance  of  his  dreams  died.  Then  nothing  but 
duty  moved  him.  He  had  become  for  the  third  time 
a  father — the  father  of  a  child  he  had  never  seen; 
the  father  of  a  name,  Lucien  Hanway.  He  must 
not  give  up;  he  must  live  if  all  the  others  died,  to 
fulfil  his  vows  made  to  Hanway;  for  he  felt  that 
the  engineer  would  not  get  through  the  Winter. 

But  why  did  the  whole  world  remain  so  silent? 
Why  did  not  the  wind  blow  and  howl  about  the 
Lucas?  Not  even  a  coyote  called  over  the  snow- 
bound prairie.  Why  did  not  someone  shout  or  sing 
or  swear  aloud?  Even  he  could  not  drive  himself 
to  shout  or  sing,  so  awful  was  the  seemingly  ancient 
hush. 

But  one  afternoon  someone  did  break  the  si- 
lence. The  crew,  huddled  indoors,  talking  over  the 
situation  in  low  voices,  was  suddenly  aroused  by  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  287 

sound  of  shouting  and  singing.  It  seemed  to  come 
from  above.  The  dreadful  spell  was  broken.  The 
crew  rushed  out  onto  the  deck  and  looked  about. 
Who  had  dared  to  shout  or  sing  In  the  stillness?  It 
seemed  like  crying  defiance  to  some  monstrous 
sleeping  foe  I 

They  looked  up  and  beheld  the  captain  of  the 
Lucas.  He  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  pilot 
house.  His  hatless,  coatless  figure  loomed  big 
against  the  Illimitable  white  spaces.  His  face  was 
red  and  bloated;  his  eyes  wild.  Dangerously  near 
the  edge  of  the  snow-covered  roof,  he  was  executing 
a  grotesque  dance,  the  while  he  accompanied  himself 
with  a  maudlin  song. 

As  the  captain  beheld  the  suddenly  appearing 
audience,  he  ceased  singing  and  dancing.  Approach- 
ing the  edge  of  the  roof  and  grinning,  he  poised 
himself  on  his  toes  after  the  manner  of  a  dancer  at 
the  footlights. 

*'KInd  of  entertainin'  the  coyotes  I  (hie),"  he  ex- 
plained grandiloquently.  "Good  of  me,  dontcha 
think?  Preshative  aujence!  None  of  'em*s  showed 
up  yet.  (hie)  Goin'  to  encore  myself;  goin'  to  do 
it  all  over  I  Say,  why  don't  you  fellers  get  some  of 
it — song  and  dance  water?    A-hIc?" 

At  the  end  of  his  speech,  the  drunken  captain 
bowed  very  low,  kicked  away  the  snow  about  him, 
again  poised  himself  upon  his  toes  and  grinned 
pleasantly.  Then  he  extended  his  arms  like  a  ballet 
dancer,  and  whirled  off  in  a  maze  of  maudlin  ecstasy, 


288  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  snow  caught  up  in  his  rapid  evolutions  flying 
about  him  like  filmy  skirts. 

He  pirouetted,  he  chassed.  He  balanced  dizzily 
upon  one  foot,  and  with  the  other  kicked  extrava- 
gantly at  the  imaginary  bald-heads  in  the  front  row. 
His  wild  song,  varying  from  the  catchy  strains  of  a 
ballet  to  the  measured  moaning  of  an  Indian  chant, 
outraged  the  silence. 

The  crew,  so  long  under  the  spell  of  the  hush, 
went  wild  with  sudden  joy. 

"Go  it,  cap!  Go  it!"  they  yelled  as  the  captain's 
dancing  degenerated  into  a  clog  to  the  tune  of  "Old 
Aunt  Kate  she's  good  enough  for  anybody."  The 
audience  joined  in  with  the  entertainer,  whistling 
and  singing  the  rousing  air,  and  keeping  time  by 
clapping  their  hands  and  stamping  their  feet. 

"Go  it,  cap!  You're  good  enough  for  a  most 
anybody!     Go  it!" 

Encouraged  by  the  liberal  appreciation  of  the  au- 
dience, the  captain,  growing  rapidly  drunker  with  his 
liquor  and  his  whirling  combined,  indulged  in  more 
extravagant  motions. 

"Bravo!  Bravo!"  shouted  a  pilot,  as  though  he 
were  watching  from  the  gallery  of  a  St.  Louis  vaude- 
ville.   "Bravo!" 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  edge  of  the  roof  the  cap- 
tain danced.  Then  in  a  maze  of  flying  snow,  he 
went  over  the  side,  struck  far  out  on  the  hurricane 
deck,  and  bounded  off  at  the  feet  of  the  hushed 
spectators. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  289 

He  lay  quiet.  A  thin  stream  of  blood  from  his 
head  reddened  the  snow.  The  dreadful  hush  came 
back.  When  he  was  lifted  to  his  feet,  he  sighed, 
opened  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  hung  limply  in 
the  arms  of  Waters.  His  skull  was  crushed,  and 
he  was  dead. 

No  one  spoke.  All  seemed  to  fear  to  break  the 
spell  of  the  silence  again.  In  the  great  stillness 
sound  seemed  to  bear  with  it  a  curse. 

As  Waters  stood  and  gazed  upon  the  limp  body 
of  the  captain,  he  thought  of  that  happier  hour  when 
the  silent  form  before  him  had  taken  charge  of  his 
island  wedding.  The  memory  made  his  heart  beat 
warmly  for  this  man  who  had  died  in  folly.  He 
looked  about  him  at  the  semicircle  of  blanched  faces, 
and  read  terror  there;  for,  to  the  heart-sick  crew, 
the  white  face  lying  in  the  reddened  snow  seemed 
the  visible  form  of  the  awful  hush  that  had  so  long 
oppressed  them. 

The  night  was  coming  on,  and  the  white  waste 
had  already  begun  to  grow  eerie  with  the  death  of 
day.  Waters'  own  voice  sounded  strangely  to  him 
as  he  broke  the  silence. 

"Someone  take  hold  of  his  feet,  and  I'll  take  his 
head,   and  we'll  take  him  in  and  let  him  rest  till 


to-morrow." 


One  of  the  pilots  obeyed,  and  they  laid  him  on 
a  couch  in  the  cabin.  The  long  night  closed  in 
with  the  hush.  Waters  and  the  pilot  sat  watching 
beside  the  dead  by  the  light  of  a  dim  lamp.     As 


290  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Waters  sat  again  in  the  presence  of  death,  thinking 
over  all  the  sadness  and  gladness  of  his  past,  life 
seemed  to  him  a  sweet  frail  blossom  to  be  guarded 
jealously  from  the  ever-lurking  frost.  How  glad 
one  should  be  that  he  could  feel  the  sun  and  the  wind 
and  the  warm  blood  in  his  breast !  What  a  priceless 
thing  it  was  to  breathe,  and  be  conscious  of  the  illim- 
itable mystery  of  skies  and  stars  and  fields  and  flow- 
ers and  seas  and  streams !  How  kind  one  should  be 
in  thankfulness  for  all  this !  What  a  duty  one  should 
feel  it  to  be  happy! 

The  long  night  dragged  its  black  shadow  slowly 
through  the  silence.  At  intervals  a  careful  step, 
muffled  in  the  deep  snow,  would  approach  the  door 
of  the  cabin,  and  the  blanched  face  of  one  of  the 
crew  would  peer  silently  in  at  the  door  where  lay 
the  thing  that  seemed  the  generative  centre  of  the 
quiet. 

Midnight  passed  and  there  was  no  sound;  not 
even  a  coyote  mourned  with  the  Winter  and  hunger 
pinching  its  vitals. 

In  the  tenseness  of  his  nerves,  the  figure  of  Mrs. 
Sprangs  holding  his  child  grew  up  vividly  before 
Waters.  How  far  away  it  seemed,  yet  how  much 
to  be  desired,  grasped  and  clung  to !  How  desper- 
ately one  should  cling  to  happiness!  How  obsti- 
nately one  should  remain  in  the  sun !  For  after  all, 
this  awful  stillness  comes.  He  resolved  in  his  heart 
that  he  would  live  through  the  Winter  and  seek  her 
in  the  Spring.    How  foolish  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  291 

had  tried  to  run  away  from  himself,  to  flee  from 
the  sun,  to  seek  shadow,  to  commit  wilfully  the  sin 
of  unhapplness !  He  saw  It  all  now  in  the  presence 
of  this  thing  that  was  so  quiet  and  cold. 

And  the  weak  white  dawn  coming  in  at  the  cabin 
window,  found  him  stronger  with  his  resolve. 

When  the  day  had  come.  Waters  got  up  from  his 
long  watch  and  taking  a  pick  and  a  shovel,  went  some 
distance  from  the  boat  and  clearing  the  snow  away, 
cut  a  hole  in  the  Ice.  It  was  the  grave  of  the  cap- 
tain. Then  he  went  back  and  resumed  his  watch 
until  afternoon,  when  he  rang  the  boat^s  bell  calling 
all  hands.  At  the  melancholy  sound,  the  crew  turned 
out  and  assembled  in  the  cabin  about  the  body  of  the 
captain.  Waters  stood  beside  the  couch  and  lifted 
the  covering  from  the  white  face. 

"Look,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  The  sound  of 
the  heavy  breathing  of  the  crew  filled  the  place,  as 
they  stared  upon  him  who  had  passed  so  suddenly 
from  loud  drunken  mirth  into  this  stillness.  "Yes- 
terday he  was  singin'  and  laughin'.  Does  it  pay  to 
do  like  him?  Let's  be  good  and  really  happy  to- 
day; to-morrow  we  might  be  like  him.  That's  all. 
Now  let's  put  him  in  the  river." 

Four  men  lifted  the  body  and  bore  it  out  of  the 
cabin  into  the  rapidly  falling  afternoon. 

It  was  a  dismal  procession  that  followed  Waters, 
with  faces  looking  to  the  snow.  When  he  had 
reached  the  grave  of  ice.  Waters  knelt  beside  the 
body  and  muttered  a  prayer.     There  was  no  other 


292  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

sound  but  his  muttering  and  the  heavy  breathing  of 
the  men  clustered  about  the  hole.  Then  the  body 
was  lowered  into  the  river,  and  it  was  lost  in  the 
current. 

Waters  at  once  hurried  from  the  place;  but  the 
others  stood  as  if  fixed  to  the  spot,  staring  into  the 
black  current  beneath. 

As  Waters  stepped  upon  the  deck,  the  sound  of 
his  own  footsteps  frightened  him.  He  started  and 
looked  behind  him  nervously.  The  seven  men  still 
stood  transfixed,  by  the  hole  in  the  ice.  Waters 
shuddered  at  the  sight. 

"Come  away  I"  he  cried. 

The  shout  seemed  prodigiously  loud.  He  saw  the 
group  of  men  start,  and  turn  their  blank  faces  to- 
ward the  boat. 

**Got  to  shake  this  off!"  muttered  Waters.  "Got 
to  shake  it  off!" 

He  closed  his  eye  involuntarily  as  he  passed  the 
red  stain  in  the  snow  where  the  head  of  the  captain 
had  lain. 

"Got  to  shake  this  off,  I  say!"  he  said  aloud  as  he 
hurried  into  his  room  and  locked  the  door. 

The  dusk  was  deepening  in  the  silence.  Waters 
lit  a  lamp,  and  tried  to  pull  himself  together.  He 
forced  himself  to  think  of  his  little  girl,  of  Specks, 
of  Mrs.  Sprangs,  of  Lucien  Hanway.  He  said  their 
names  aloud,  endeavoring  to  clear  away  the  horror 
of  the  silence. 

"Mrs.   Sprangs,  June,   Specks,"   he  said  aloud. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  293 

"Little  butterfly — little  butterfly.''  He  dwelt  upon 
the  latter,  and  saw  again  the  diaphanous  girl  of  the 
island  standing  waist-deep  in  the  glowing  spring. 
Then  he  thought  of  the  night  when  something  strong 
and  kind  had  come  to  him  out  of  the  thunderstorm. 

Was  it  not  also  in  the  silence  ? 

The  thought  dispelled  his  dread.  Then  he  began 
calmly  thinking  over  the  situation,  and  continued  far 
into  the  night,  when  he  was  aroused  from  his 
thoughts  by  the  sounds  of  muffled  voices. 

He  got  up,  dressed  and  went  out  on  deck.  The 
voices  came  from  the  engine  room.  He  went  back 
to  the  cabin  and  lit  a  lantern ;  then  he  descended  the 
aft  stairs,  up  which  the  voices  came  in  intermittent 
snatches  of  discordant  song. 

He  reached  the  door  and  carefully  opening  it, 
looked  in.  There  he  beheld  the  seven  men  huddled 
about  a  keg  of  liquor.  Hanway  alone  was  absent 
Their  faces  were  wild,  and  they  were  making  a 
pitiful  effort  to  sing.  As  the  door  creaked,  they 
leaped  to  their  feet  and  gasped. 

"God,  Waters!"  mumbled  one,  "thought  you  was 
the  cap'n!" 

Waters  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to  the 
cabin.  What  he  did  then  was  the  result  of  his  hours 
of  thinking,  and  this  recent  discovery.  He  saw  the 
need  of  law  in  the  Lucas,  and  he  had  formed  a  bold 
plan.  He  entered  every  room  and  ransacked  them 
for  fireams,  finding  a  number  of  revolvers,  rifles,  and 
a  shotgun.     He  took  them  to  his  room,  and  con- 


294  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

cealed  under  his  bunk,  all  but  two  revolvers.  Then 
he  went  out,  locking  the  door  behind  him. 

He  went  into  the  hold  where  the  liquor  was 
stored,  and  found  five  kegs.  With  a  half  hour's 
work,  he  carried  these  also  into  his  room.  Then 
again  locking  the  door,  he  slung  the  lantern  over  his 
arm,  and  returned  to  the  engine  room.  He  threw 
open  the  door  and  went  in.  The  seven  still  sat  hud- 
dled about  the  keg,  their  faces  haggard  with  drunk- 
enness. 

**I  want  you  to  go  to  bed,''  said  Waters  quietly. 

*'Who  go  tha  bed?"  mumbled  one,  deep  in  liquor. 
"You  go  tha  bed.  Wooden  Leg  I  Don'  have  tha  go. 
Cap'n's  dead." 

"Cap'n's  dead,"  muttered  the  others  like  a  chorus. 

A  burly  deck  hand,  his  brutal  features  bloated 
and  inflamed  with  drink,  got  staggeringly  to  his  feet 
and  seized  a  shovel. 

*Tou  go,"  he  mumbled  with  thick  lips;  "no — 
go  to  hell!  Cap'n's  dead.  Lucas  goin'  to  be  a 
pir't'.     Who  made  you  cap'n?" 

The  man  staggered  toward  Waters,  with  the 
shovel  upraised.    The  others  stared  witlessly. 

"I  was  'lected  unanimous  by  my  friends,"  said 
Waters  quietly.  "Here's  one  of  'em,"  he  said,  pull- 
ing a  six-shooter  from  its  holster;  "and  here's  an- 
other one  of  'em,"  producing  the  other.  "I  want 
you  to  go  to  bed." 

The  man  dropped  his  shovel.  One  by  one  the 
drunken  seven  got  up  muttering,  and  staggered  out 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  295 

of  the  room.  When  they  had  gone,  Waters  took 
a  hammer  and  shattered  the  head  of  the  keg  of 
liquor,  and  poured  the  contents  out.  Then  he  went 
on  deck,  and  after  satisfying  himself  that  all  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  that  Hanway  was  sleeping,  he  went 
into  his  room  and  locked  the  door. 


Ill 

The  Return  of  Gloom 

The  next  morning  Waters  got  up  early,  and  rang 
the  boat*s  bell  to  call  all  hands  on  deck.  Through 
habit,  the  men  obeyed  the  familiar  call,  and  turned 
out,  still  drowsy  with  their  night's  debauch.  Waters 
with  his  two  "friends'*  in  plain  sight  at  his  belt, 
talked  to  the  men: 

*'Gen'lemen,"  he  said,  "I  told  you  last  night  that 
I  was  cap'n  of  this  boat,  'cause  none  of  you  looked 
like  you'd  make  good  cap'ns.  Now  did  you?" 
Some  grinned  and  others  scowled.  "Now  I  was 
doin'  this  for  the  good  of  us  all.  You  fellers  all 
want  to  get  back  to  St.  Louis;  so  do  I.  But  we'll 
never  get  there  bein'  hogs.  We've  got  some  tough 
times  ahead  of  us,  and  we've  got  to  run  under  low 
pressure,  and  feel  our  way  with  the  lead  or  we'll 
run  aground  worse'n  we  have.  Now,  whenever  you 
fellers  act  like  you'd  make  better  cap'ns  than  I  am, 
then  you  can  be  cap'n.  Bill,"  he  said,  addressing 
the  cook,  "I  want  you  to  keep  on  doin'  the  cookin'. 
I'll  pay  you  what  you've  been  gettin',  and  settle  every 
week.     Now  there's  got  to  be  wood  chopped,  and 

296 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  297 

timbers  put  around  the  Lucas  to  save  her  from  the 
ice  in  the  Spring.  Til  pay  two  dollars  a  day  for 
doin'  this,  and  pay  it  every  week.  IVe  got  the 
money,  and  a  bankful  more  of  it  at  St.  Louis,  not 
mentionin*  a  cargo  of  furs  at  Benton.  Flecto  and 
Cabney,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  pilots,  who 
were  the  most  intelligent  of  the  seven,  "I  want  you 
to  oversee  this  work  of  gettin'  timbers  for  the  boat, 
and  cuttin'  wood  to  burn.  You  can  meet  me  in  the 
capon's  room  in  ten  minutes,  and  we'll  talk  it  over." 

The  new  captain's  proposition  to  pay  for  all  work 
done  infused  spirit  into  the  formerly  dejected  crew. 

"Hooray  for  Cap'n  Waters!"  cried  the  deck 
hand  with  the  brutal  face,  who  had  looked  down 
the  mouths  of  Waters'  friends  the  night  before,  and 
consequently  felt  the  new  authority. 

When  Waters  met  the  two  pilots  in  the  cabin,  he 
took  them  into  his  confidence,  and  readily  won  them 
over.  They  agreed  to  serve  as  overseers  of  the 
men,  without  pay. 

"Now  which  one  of  you  fellers  has  been  on  the 
river  longest?"  asked  Waters. 

"Flecto  has,"  said  Cabney. 

"Then  I  want  Mr.  Flecto  to  be  my  first  mate, 
and  Mr.  Cabney  second  mate,"  said  Waters. 

By  noon  the  new  organization  was  complete  and 
in  working  order.  The  men  lost  their  dread  as  they 
worked,  and  when  they  returned  from  the  bluffs  in 
the  evening,  their  appetites  had  returned  with  their 
good  spirits.     For  several  weeks  the  work  went  on 


298  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

merrily.  The  snow  had  stopped,  and  the  sun  came 
out,  bleared  and  pale;  for  the  temperature  had 
fallen  after  the  ceasing  of  the  snow.  It  was  hard 
but  wholesome  work,  cutting  timber  at  the  edge  of 
the  bluffs,  and  dragging  it  to  the  boat.  But  the 
dreadful  hush  had  been  broken  with  the  sound  of 
axe  and  saw;  and  the  men  sang  and  laughed  in  the 
exhilarating  frosty  air. 

Waters'  coup  had  succeeded  perfectly.  Even 
Hanway  seemed  to  shake  off  some  of  the  lethargy 
that  had  hung  upon  him  so  long.  A  slight  fever 
that  had  seemed  to  be  slowly  wasting  him  away,  dis- 
appeared, and  he  ate  with  better  appetite.  Still  he 
talked  much  of  Lucien,  laughing  at  his  childish 
pranks  as  he  remembered  them,  and  growing  enthu- 
siastic over  the  possible  future  of  the  boy.  Waters 
managed  to  take  him  for  walks  over  the  timber  trail 
to  the  bluffs,  and  noted  with  joy  how  the  haggard 
face  had  gained  color  and  a  more  peaceful  expres- 
sion. 

But  one  day  in  the  early  part  of  January,  Waters 
foresaw  a  coming  danger.  The  stock  of  potatoes 
and  flour  was  exhausted,  and  there  was  nothing  left 
for  food  but  cured  meats.  Even  this  supply  would 
scarcely  be  adequate  for  the  balance  of  the  Winter, 
and  it  became  necessary  that  fresh  meat  should  be 
supplied. 

Waters  called  the  men  together  and  explained 
the  situation.  Flecto  and  Cabney  at  once  volunteered 
to  go  on  a  hunt.     So  on  the  morning  following,  the 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  299 

two  pilots,  armed  with  a  shotgun  and  a  rifle,  which 
Waters  produced  from  their  hiding  place,  set  out 
in  search  of  jack-rabbits  and  antelope. 

They  took  the  timber  trail  for  the  bluffs,  and  dis- 
appeared over  the  indistinct  sky  line.  It  was  a  cold 
still  morning,  the  temperature  below  zero.  The 
many  days  of  continuous  cold  had  made  the  heavy 
fall  of  snow  like  dry  powder.  By  noon  the  sky 
clouded,  and  the  far  sky  line  disappeared  in  a  gray 
haze.  A  light  wind  came  up  from  the  north,  scurry- 
ing the  feathery  snow  like  dust  across  the  drear  ex- 
panse. 

Anxiously  the  men  in  the  Lucas  gazed  at  the  hazy 
summits  of  the  bluffs,  straining  their  eyes  to  see  the 
returning  hunters  suddenly  loom  out  of  the  sky.  All 
afternoon  they  gazed;  still  nothing  moved  upon  the 
summits  but  the  snow  writhing  under  the  lash  of  the 
wind.  By  evening  the  wind  had  increased.  Slowly 
the  great  expanses  had  grown  smaller  and  smaller 
with  the  rising  of  the  wind,  until  there  was  but  a 
small  circle  of  day  left  about  the  Lucas,  and  beyond 
that  the  dizzy  twilight  of  the  storm. 

The  night  came  almost  unnoticed ;  and  with  it  the 
wind  rose  higher,  and  the  lessening  circle  of  vision 
closed  in,  leaving  the  Lucas  in  impenetrable  night. 

All  through  the  night  the  men  on  the  boat  sat 
huddled  about  the  furnace  in  the  engine  room.  The 
burning  logs  popped,  the  wind  howled,  and  the 
watchers  sat  silent,  listening,  listening.  When  a 
sudden  puff  of  wind  shook  the  smokestacks  outside, 


300  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

the  watchers  by  the  fire  invariably  started,  thinking 
they  had  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  returning  hunt- 
ers. The  dread  of  noise  became  even  more  terrible 
than  the  former  dread  of  the  hush. 

Once  the  howl  of  the  wind  in  the  stacks  sounded 
like  the  hoarse  shout  of  a  desperate  man.  Hanway 
leaped  to  his  feet. 

*ThereI"  he  cried.     'Elector 

The  watchers  stared  into  each  other's  faces,  and 
did  not  move.  After  years  of  waiting,  as  it  seemed, 
morning  came;  but  it  was  not  day;  only  the  seeth- 
ing gray  twilight  of  the  blizzard,  a  travesty  of  dawn. 

The  gloom  that  had  been  dispelled  by  the  efforts 
of  the  new  captain  now  descended  again  upon  the 
Lucas.  Waters  fought  with  the  incubus  of  dread. 
He  tried  to  appear  cheerful;  he  joked,  but  no  one 
laughed.  It  seemed  that  some  stern  fatality  fol- 
lowed the  Lucas. 

Failing  in  his  jokes.  Waters  began  talking  about 
the  wedding  in  the  wilderness,  in  which  the  crew  had 
taken  part. 

"You  fellers  remember  my  weddin*,  don't  you?" 
he  said,  attempting  to  speak  affably.  '^Never  was  a 
weddin'  like  it  before,  was  there?  Say,  let's  sing 
*Annie  Laurie'  again,  jest  like  we  sung  it  then." 
And  he  began: 

"Maxwelton's  braes  are  bonny 
Where  early  fa's  the  dew, 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  301 

And  'twas  there  that  Annie  Laurie 
G'ae  me  her  promise  true." 

The  men  caught  up  the  song,  and  sang  falteringly 
until  they  reached  the  refrain: 

"And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 
rd  lay  me  down  and  dee." 

At  the  words,  tears  came  into  the  eye  of  Waters, 
in  spite  of  his  efforts.    The  song  died. 

"What  became  of  the  beautiful  girl?"  whispered 
one  of  the  men. 

Waters  hesitated  long,  and  then  said  quietly: 
"Died." 

"Ah,"  said  one,  "it  all  comes  to  that!"  And  a 
quiet  fell  upon  the  assembled  crew. 

Still  Waters  made  a  final  effort  to  dispel  the 
gloom.  He  announced  that  he  would  open  a  poker 
game  in  the  engine  room,  and  that  he  was  going  to 
be  the  "house."  Although  he  had  long  since  put 
away  his  old  rough  life,  he  feigned  a  deep  interest 
in  the  game.  All  the  players  had  the  greater  part 
of  their  Summer's  wages  with  them.  They  drew 
cards  and  hazarded  their  money  with  listless  un- 
concern, always  listening,  listening  for  the  sound  of 
footsteps  that  never  came. 

Waters  almost  wished  that  someone  would  be 
caught  with  an  ace  up  his  sleeve;  but  there  was  no 


302  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

desire  to  win.  Once  when  a  considerable  jackpot 
had  just  been  opened  with  everybody  staying,  an  un- 
usually heavy  gust  of  wind  made  something  clatter 
on  deck.  The  players  dropped  their  cards  face 
upward  upon  the  table,  and  leaped  from  their  chairs. 

But  when  at  last  the  second  engineer  called  a  large 
bet  with  a  pair  of  deuces.  Waters  closed  the  game. 

And  the  gloom  deepened. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  day  the  storm  died,  and 
the  white  waste  emerged  from  the  shadow,  glittering 
in  the  sickly  sun  that  went  down  smiling  like  a  cynic. 


IV 

The  Coyote 

With  the  dying  of  the  storm,  the  hush  returned 
with  increased  intensity.  The  men  huddled  about 
the  furnace  in  the  engine  room,  and  spoke  little. 
Hanway  had  again  taken  to  his  bunk.  The  general 
depression  had  made  him  irritable.  He  refused  to 
eat  regularly,  and  with  petulant  outcries  resented  all 
attempts  at  persuasion,  often  cursing  even  Waters. 

One  evening  Waters  went  out  on  deck  for  a 
breath  of  fresh  air,  walking  rapidly  around  the 
cabin.  Suddenly  he  came  upon  the  brutal  faced 
deck-hand,  who  was  leaning  over  the  stern  railing, 
his  hard  face  savage  with  hate,  as  he  stared  into  the 
white  emptiness.  His  arms  were  raised  menacingly, 
and  his  fists  were  clenched. 

"Damn  you,  damn  you,  damn  you  I"  he  was  mut- 
tering fiercely,  as  if  challenging  some  invisible 
enemy. 

"They'll  all  get  luny,"  said  Waters  that  night  as 
he  lay  thinking  over  the  matter.  So  the  next  morn- 
ing he  gave  orders  for  the  chopping  of  more  wood, 
although  a  large  supply  still  remained. 

303 


304  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"We  don't  want  to  chop  wood,"  growled  the  sec- 
ond engineer. 

"Plenty  wood,"  muttered  the  others. 

"But  I'll  pay  for  it,"  urged  Waters. 

"Pay  be  damned!"  said  they. 

Waters'  nerves,  tense  with  the  strain  they  had 
long  borne  in  patience,  gave  way.  His  face  became 
devilish.  His  cheeks  blanched  and  his  lips  whitened. 
His  one  eye  glared.  He  pulled  his  guns  and  made 
the  hammers  quiver  beneath  his  nervous  thumbs. 

"Chop  wood!"  he  cried.     "Will  you  chop?" 

The  men  obeyed  doggedly.  But  when  they  re- 
turned in  the  evening,  their  spirits  were  no  better. 
They  went  about  muttering,  with  their  heads  hung. 

During  the  scanty  supper  of  fried  bacon,  the  sec- 
ond engineer  spoke  for  the  men. 

"Cap,"  he  said,  "we  want  liquor;  you've  got  it 
hid,  and  we  want  it." 

The  others  all  shook  their  heads  in  assent.  Wat- 
ers made  no  answer  for  some  time.  He  foresaw 
the  danger  that  lay  in  drunkenness.  He  wished  he 
had  shattered  all  the  kegs  the  night  he  concealed 
them  in  his  room. 

"Well,"  said  he  at  length,  "of  course  you  can 
have  liquor."  He  felt  that  the  time  had  come  when 
his  authority  could  be  sustained  only  by  lenience. 
After  supper  he  brought  to  the  engine  room,  where 
the  men  had  congregated,  a  small  bucket  of  whiskey 
and  a  tin  cup.    The  men  became  jovial  as  they  drank. 

"Have  one,  cap!"  they  clamored. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  3^5 

Waters  smiled  sadly  and  pushed  the  cup  away. 
"Cap'n's  oughtn't  to  drink,"  he  said;  "have  you 
forgot?" 

The  memory  of  the  dead  captain  brought  silence, 
and  Waters  left  the  place,  going  to  his  room  and 
locking  himself  in.  He  lay  awake  late,  wondering 
if  he  should  not  get  up  and  destroy  the  liquor.  No, 
he  thought,  they  would  go  wild  if  he  did,  and  he 
knew  he  could  no  longer  control  by  fear.  He  felt 
that  his  usurped  authority  had  been  swallowed  in  the 
gloom.  It  was  no  longer  a  captain  against  a  crew; 
it  was  one  man  against  seven,  and  the  growing  des- 
peration increased  the  odds. 

Once  he  raised  himself  in  his  bunk,  resolved  to  get 
up  and  destroy  the  liquor,  even  if  he  should  be  killed 
for  it.  Then  his  vow  to  Hanway  checked  him.  He 
dropped  back  again  upon  his  pillow.  "No,"  he 
mused,  "I  must  live  if  all  the  rest  die."  His  vow 
had  become  an  obsession. 

He  lay  awake  listening  to  the  coyotes;  for  the 
snow  had  hardened  and  they  were  enabled  to  run 
about. 

Yi  yi  yi  yi-yoo-o-ow-ow-oo-ow. 

It  was  a  heart-broken  cry. 

"Pore  devils  I"  mused  Waters;  "pore  shiverin* 
devils  I  Their  bellies  is  flappin*  together,  and  their 
feetVe  achin'  in  the  frost.  Still,  if  I  was  a  coyote 
for  awhile,  Vd  start  south  and  run — run — run  like 
the  wind.    God  I    Wouldn't  I  run  I" 

Gradually  the  yelp  and  howl  of  the  coyotes  grew 


3o6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

dimmer,  and  he  fell  asleep,  dreaming  that  he  was  a 
coyote  leaping  wildly  over  the  frozen  snow  to  the 
south.  He  felt  the  keen  night-air  bite  his  face  as  he 
flew,  and  saw  beside  him  his  moving  shadow  that  the 
moon  cast.  He  ran — ran — ran,  breathlessly,  terror- 
stricken;   but  the  shadow  ran  beside  him. 

Then  a  loud  sound  as  of  crashing  timbers  awak- 
ened him.  The  Lucas  leaped  and  trembled.  He  got 
up  dizzily,  and  could  hardly  believe  that  he  was 
awake.  Were  the  engines  working?  He  could 
hear  their  sobbing  and  groaning.  He  dressed 
quickly  and  went  out  on  deck.  No  one  stirred  in 
the  cabin;    the  men  slept  heavily  with  their  liquor. 

A  light  came  up  the  aft  stairs,  from  the  open  door 
of  the  engine  room.  Waters  ran  down  the  stairs  and 
entered.  The  engine  had  been  fired  up  and  the  fur- 
nace was  red  hot.  The  machinery  was  in  motion, 
and  Waters  knew  what  had  caused  the  crashing 
sound  that  had  awakened  him.  The  side-wheels, 
buried  in  the  frozen  sand,  had  been  shattered. 

He  rushed  to  the  throttle  and  shut  down  the  en- 
gine. Then  he  looked  at  the  indicator;  it  had 
reached  167  and  was  rapidly  rising,  for  the  valve 
had  been  tied  down. 

**Damn  that  Hanwayl"  cried  Waters. 

He  cut  the  cords  that  held  the  valve,  and  released 
the  steam.  When  the  roar  of  the  escaping  steam 
had  died,  a  sound  from  the  deck  attracted  Waters' 
attention.  It  was  as  the  cry  of  a  coyote,  only  louder 
and  more  hopelessly  broken-hearted. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  307 

Waters  ran  up  to  the  deck,  and  there  in  the  star- 
light, he  beheld  Hanway  in  his  night  clothes,  upon 
his  hands  and  knees  in  the  snow.  His  head  was 
thrown  back,  and  his  face  upturned  to  the  bitter  sky. 
He  was  answering  the  lonesome  coyotes  with  their 
own  terrible  heart-broken  plaint. 

Waters'  momentary  anger  suddenly  changed  to  a 
great  pity.  He  went  to  the  man  and  touched  him 
gently. 

*'Come  on,  Jim,"  he  said.  **Come  on  back  to  bed 
now;  I'll  take  care  of  the  engine.  You're  cold,  and 
you'd  better  go  to  bed." 

"All  right,  Waters,"  said  Hanway  in  a  thin, 
plaintive  voice;  "I  got  her  fired  up,  but  somehow — 
somehow — let's  see — somehow,  I  couldn't  get  the 
damn  throttle  open,  I  guess.  Send  her  through  for 
all  she's  worth.  Waters;  but  wake  me  up  when  we 
get  to  St.  Louis;  'cause,  you  know,  the  boy^s  been 
waiting — waiting — waiting — huh  ?" 

He  looked  searchingly  into  Waters'  face,  and 
began  to  sob. 

Waters  took  him  to  bed,  where  he  soon  fell  into 
a  nervous  sleep.  All  through  the  night  Waters 
watched  by  the  bunk  of  the  engineer,  with  a  great 
pity  at  his  heart,  like  a  mother  watching  a  sick  child. 
And  at  last  the  pale  dawn  came  wearily  over  the 
waste  of  snow. 


Mutiny 

During  the  days  that  followed,  a  sense  of  impend- 
ing calamity  grew  upon  Waters.  He  no  longer  re- 
moved his  clothes  at  night,  and  slept  restlessly.  He 
had  carefully  concealed  the  condition  of  Hanway 
from  the  rest,  fearing  the  effect  it  might  have  upon 
them.  His  haunting  sense  of  impending  danger  was 
increased  daily  by  the  growing  morbidness  of  the 
men.  They  seldom  moved  away  from  the  fire,  and 
had  ceased  to  call  him  captain  at  those  rare  intervals 
when  they  broke  their  sullen  silence.  At  meals, 
when  an  insufficient  supply  of  fried  bacon  was  meted 
out  by  Waters,  they  no  longer  ate  like  men.  They 
devoured  like  wolves,  and  after  sullenly  disposing 
of  every  morsel,  withdrew  from  the  table  grumbling. 
And  Waters  constantly  wore  his  revolvers,  fearing 
some  sudden  violence. 

Sustained  by  his  one  purpose  of  fulfilling  the  vow 
to  Hanway,  Waters  alone  tried  to  maintain  a  cheer- 
ful spirit  in  the  face  of  famine.  Foreseeing  the  pos- 
sible result  of  the  ravenous  hunger  of  the  men,  he 
had  seized  the  remaining  supply  of  bacon  and  hidden 

308 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  309 

it  in  hit  room,  producing  daily  enough  to  keep  him- 
self and  the  men  from  starvation. 

During  the  latter  part  of  January,  the  second  en- 
gineer and  a  deck  hand  refused  to  get  up  one  morn- 
ing at  the  sound  of  the  bell.  Waters  found  them 
lying  listless  in  their  bunks,  their  eyes  lustreless  un- 
der swollen  lids.  On  the  third  morning  their  condi- 
tion had  grown  decidedly  worse.  Their  tongues 
were  swollen  and  bleeding,  and  their  dried,  mummy- 
like faces  were  marked  with  bruise-like  blotches. 

Waters  summoned  all  the  strength  of  his  weak- 
ening spirit  to  fight  the  dread  that  held  him  in  its 
clutches.  He  watched  by  the  sick  men,  caring  for 
them  as  best  he  could. 

During  this  time  Hanway  seemed  to  struggle  out 
of  his  gloom.  Though  feeble,  he  went  about  the 
boat,  talking  hopefully  of  the  Spring  and  the  contin- 
uation of  the  trip.  But  the  rising  spirits  of  Hanway 
were  not  shared  by  the  three  who  were  still  able  to 
get  about.  They  quarrelled  much  among  them- 
selves, like  peevish  children,  their  anger  arising  at 
the  most  trivial  provocation.  When  their  two  com- 
panions fell  sick,  their  peevishness  increased,  and 
they  complained  childishly  to  Waters  of  their  food. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks,  the  sick  men  became 
delirious  and  sank  into  lethargy.  Their  gums  had 
become  spongy  and  oozed  blood;  their  breaths  were 
foul.  Waters  watched  them  through  the  last  night, 
as  the  lethargy  deepened,  and  their  breathing  be- 


310  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

came  weaker  and  weaker.  One  died  in  the  morning, 
and  the  other  in  the  evening. 

Waters  chopped  another  hole  in  the  ice,  and  the 
loathsome  bodies  were  given  to  the  river.  Of  the 
ten  who  had  started  south  with  the  Lucas,  only  five 
remained;  and  among  them  all,  Waters  alone,  sus- 
tained by  a  purpose  that  daily  grew  upon  him,  re- 
tained his  power  to  struggle  against  odds. 

One  evening  as  Waters  was  unlocking  the  door 
of  his  room,  where  the  arms  and  provisions  had  been 
hidden,  the  sullen  three  approached  him. 

"Waters,"  said  one,  with  the  whining  voice  of  a 
sick  child,  "give  us  one  of  the  kegs  of  whiskey, 
won't  you?'' 

Waters  answered  kindly,  but  with  a  sinking  heart, 
for  he  felt  that  the  long  feared  outbreak  of  frenzy 
was  at  hand. 

"I  can't,"  he  said;  "fellers,  I  can't  do  it,  'cause 
I  know  you'd  sure  never  see  Spring." 

"But  we  won't  see  Spring  nohow,"  the  man  an- 
swered.   "God!  Waters,  won't  you  let  us  die  easy?" 

"You  can't  have  any  I"  returned  Waters  firmly. 
"I'm  cap'n  of  the  Lucas  yet  and " 

Waters  had  failed  to  place  any  significance  upon 
the  manner  of  the  men's  approach.  One  had  come 
up  on  either  side,  and  one  in  front.  The  man  in 
front  had  opened  the  conversation,  and  Waters  was 
looking  at  him  as  he  spoke.  To  his  left  stood  the 
brutal-faced  deck  hand,  larger  and  more  powerfully 
built  than  the  rest,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  311 

Before  Waters  had  finished  his  sentence,  there  was 
a  sudden  movement  to  his  left;  then  there  was  a 
dull  roar  in  his  head;  he  felt  himself  falling,  and  a 
heavy  darkness  closed  m  about  him. 

A  dull  pain  cut  through  the  darkness  and  silence 
like  a  knife.  Then  slowly  a  httle  light  filtered  into 
Waters'  brain,  and  a  faint  sound  of  shouting.  He 
heard  his  name  called  repeatedly  as  from  a  great  dis- 
tance. Dizzily  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  face 
of  Hanway  over  him.  He  blinked  wonderingly  at 
the  face  that  whirled  about  like  the  ghastly  face  of 
a  drowned  man  in  a  whirlpool.  Slowly  the  whirling 
ceased,  and  he  recognized  the  things  in  his  own 
room. 

His  head  ached.  He  placed  his  hand  on  the  side 
that  ached  most,  and  withdrew  it  covered  with  blood. 
Someone  had  struck  him  on  the  head.  Then  the 
memory  of  his  talk  with  the  men  came  back  as  from 
some  far  time.  He  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow 
and  looked  about.  A  lantern  was  hanging  on  the 
wall.  Dazedly  he  searched  the  place  with  his  eye 
for  something;  what  was  it?     Oh,  yes,  the  liquor  I 

"God,  man  I"  gasped  Hanway,  supporting  Wat- 
ers with  his  frail  body;   "I  thought  you  were  dead!'* 

"Where's  the  whiskey?"  Waters  asked,  getting 
unsteadily  to  his  feet,  and  leaning  against  the  wall 
for  support. 

"They've  got  it  all  out  on  deck!  They've  been 
turning  the  night  into  hell  I    Listen  1" 


312  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Snarls  and  cries  as  of  wolves  at  bay  broke  the 
night  stillness.  Instinctively  Waters  felt  for  his 
guns — they  were  no  longer  in  their  holsters.  He 
went  to  the  door,  threw  it  open  and  stepped  out  onto 
the  deck.  On  the  deck  of  the  Lucas  he  saw  the  three 
men.  One  lay  upon  his  back  in  the  snow  among  the 
kegs.  A  cold  moon  shed  a  dull  light  over  the  rim  of 
the  east,  and  illumined  the  sickly  scene.  The  two 
other  men  were  swaying  dizzily  about  in  the  snow, 
locked  in  brutal  combat.  They  snarled  and  snapped 
at  each  other's  faces  like  infuriated  dogs. 

Still  stunned  with  the  blow  he  had  received,  Wat- 
ers stood  staring  dazedly  at  the  fight.  He  saw  the 
two  go  down,  wallowing  in  the  snow,  arid  cursing  and 
snarling.  Still  he  did  not  move.  It  seemed  like  a 
nightmare  over  which  he  had  no  control.  He  heard 
the  sound  of  choking;  then  he  saw  the  deck-hand 
with  the  brutal  face  get  unsteadily  to  his  feet,  leav- 
ing his  adversary  lying  in  the  snow. 

He  saw  the  man  pull  two  six-shooters  from  his 
hip  pockets  and  deliberately  empty  them  into  the  two 
prostrate  forms.  He  heard  the  devilish  laughter  of 
the  man,  and  then  fear  came  upon  him  like  a  sick- 
ness. He  tottered  into  his  room  again,  and  shut  the 
door.  He  took  two  revolvers  from  under  his  bunk, 
and  loaded  them.  Then  he  sat  down  upon  the  floor, 
facing  the  door,  with  the  guns  resting  on  his  knees. 

Hanway's  teeth  chattered  as  he  crouched  behind 
Waters.  The  two  sat  listening  to  the  cries  and 
laughter  of  the  drunken  man  outside.     When  they 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  313 

heard  him  pass  the  door,  Waters  cocked  the  revolv- 
ers, and  held  them  tremblingly  upon  the  door.  In  a 
half  conscious  way  he  wondered  at  his  cowardice, 
but  he  felt  no  shame ;  for  it  seemed  that  something 
strong  had  oozed  out  of  the  wound  in  his  head.  It 
was  not  until  the  light  of  morning  found  him  huddled 
over  his  arms,  that  he  could  feel  ashamed. 


VI 

The  Last  of  the  Lucas 

It  was  the  third  week  in  February.  Waters,  Han- 
way  and  the  deck-hand  alone  survived  of  the  ten  who 
had  started  south  with  the  Lucas  in  the  Fall.  The 
two  victims  of  the  night's  debauch  had  followed 
their  companions  into  the  river.  The  deck-hand, 
owing  doubtless  to  his  brute  constitution,  soon  re- 
covered from  his  debauch.  What  was  not  drunk  of 
the  liquor  had  been  poured  out  onto  the  snow,  as 
the  kegs  had  been  shattered  by  the  men  in  their 
frenzy.  There  was  no  further  danger  from  that 
source. 

Waters  still  wielded  the  little  authority  that  was 
needed.  He  took  the  dead  cook's  place,  and  meas- 
ured out  the  day's  rations  in  quantities  small  enough 
to  make  the  limited  supply  of  bacon  last  during  the 
two  months  that  must  pass  before  the  ice  would 
break  up. 

It  was  a  time  of  silence.  The  deck-hand  had  not 
spoken  since  the  murdering  of  his  companions.  He 
went  about  sullenly  with  his  head  down.  The  re- 
volvers   taken    from    Waters    after    he    had   been 

314 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  315 

knocked  down,  were  worn  constantly  by  the  deck 
hand.  Waters  also  wore  a  pair  belted  about  the 
outside  of  his  coat  for  ready  use,  and  never  turned 
his  back  upon  the  other;  for  though  he  had  seen  the 
revolvers  emptied  into  the  victims  of  that  night's  de- 
bauch, he  suspected  that  the  deck  hand  had  found 
other  ammunition.  All  three  now  slept  without  re- 
moving their  clothes  and  boots.  Each  seemed  ap- 
prehensive of  some  imminent  culmination  of  an  in- 
definite fear. 

During  this  time  Hanway  grew  weaker  and  more 
peevish.  When  he  spoke,  his  words  were  trivial  and 
childish.  He  seemed  to  have  lost  all  memory  of  the 
past.  When  Waters  endeavored  to  arouse  him  from 
his  stupor  by  speaking  of  Lucien,  he  stared  blankly. 
Day  by  day  Waters  noted  the  dying  of  the  man's 
brain.  All  that  which  had  been  strong  in  the  man's 
face  was  slowly  passing  away,  leaving  upon  his  pale 
features  the  vacuous  expression  of  a  sheep.  At 
times  he  became  idiotic,  snivelling  pitifully,  or  break- 
ing into  an  empty  titter  at  the  words  of  his  friend. 
At  such  times  he  seemed  to  have  lost  the  sense  of  his 
own  identity.  Once  at  a  meal,  when  putting  a  piece 
of  bacon  to  his  lips,  he  suddenly  discovered  the  pres- 
ence of  a  hand  at  his  mouth.  He  grasped  it  with  his 
other  hand,  cast  it  upon  the  table  and  gave  it  a 
sound  beating.  Then  his  impotent  anger  suddenly 
passed,  and  he  wept  bitterly  over  his  bruised  hand. 

Through  the  dismal  nights  Waters  kept  watch 
over  Hanway.    The  Winter  had  reached  its  climax, 


3i6  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

and  it  was  bitterly  cold.  The  timbers  of  the  Lucas 
popped  and  groaned  as  they  contracted  in  the  cold. 
The  coyotes  filled  the  empty  world  with  their  cries. 
The  cables  that  supported  the  smokestacks  sang 
keenly  in  the  frosty  air. 

But  one  day  Hanway  appeared  lucid.  His  face 
had  taken  on  a  more  human  expression;  he  talked 
much  and  sensibly  concerning  the  Spring  and  the 
trip  south.  With  the  exception  of  a  peculiar  hesi- 
tancy in  his  speech,  he  seemed  his  old  self  again. 

A  great  load  was  lifted  off  Waters'  mind.  He  be- 
came cheerful  again,  and  that  night  he  went  early  to 
his  bunk.  Exhausted  with  loss  of  sleep,  he  soon  fell 
into  heavy  slumber. 

He  dreamed  he  felt  a  soft  southwind  on  his  face, 
gentle  and  kind  as  the  caress  of  a  woman.  He 
heard  the  ice  pop  and  roar,  and  the  grumbling  of  the 
awakened  river.  Then  the  floods  arose,  and  there 
was  a  great  shouting  and  groaning,  and  the  dull 
sound  of  ice  hurled  upon  ice — the  tumult  of  the 
elemental  battle.  The  waters  rose  higher,  and  he 
felt  the  Lucas  lift  and  shake  herself  like  a  wet  dog. 
Then  he  felt  the  vibration  of  machinery,  and  heard 
the  snoring  of  engines.  His  heart  grew  light  within 
him.  He  was  going  south,  to  Calhoun  and  every- 
thing that  was  dear  in  the  world.  In  his  joy  he  lifted 
his  voice  lustily,  and  the  sound  of  his  cry  awakened 
him. 

The  Lucas  was  vibrating  I  The  engines  were 
snoring  and  wheezing  I     But  there  was  no  booming 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  317 

of  ice;  no  lifting  of  the  Spring  flood;  only  the  ter- 
rible silence  of  the  Winter. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes,  yawned  and  listened.  Chug 
— chug-swish;  chug — chug-swish.  A  lonesome  coy- 
ote hurled  its  cry  like  a  pang  through  the  night. 
Then  thoroughly  awakened,  Waters  thought  of 
Hanway ;  he  had  started  the  engines  again !  Waters 
rushed  forthwith  out  of  his  room;  for  he  had  not 
undressed.  He  was  shaken  with  a  great  anger;  his 
patience  was  exhausted. 

*'Damn  that '^ 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence. 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  sound  of  roaring 
and  rending.  The  boat  seemed  to  leap  clear  of  the 
ice,  her  strained  timbers  shrieking  as  in  pain!  Wat- 
ers was  thrown  violently  against  the  cabin,  and  ren- 
dered momentarily  senseless.  When  he  recovered, 
he  saw  that  the  whole  after  part  of  the  boat  had 
been  shattered,  and  a  cloud  of  steam,  hot  with 
tongues  of  flame,  arose  from  the  wreckage  I  The 
boilers  had  blown  up. 

He  stood  transfixed,  staring  at  the  flames  that 
momentarily  leaped  higher.  Something  moved  near 
him.  He  turned  and  looked  into  the  face  of  the 
deck  hand.  In  that  moment  it  seemed  he  had  never 
looked  upon  a  dearer  face,  though  he  loathed  the 
man  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  The  sense  of 
human  companionship  in  the  lonesome  waste,  now 
grown  doubly  desolate,  was  overpowering. 

*'HurryI"  cried  Waters;   "Hanway's  blowcd  her 


3i8  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

up  I  Drag  out  everything  you  want  to  save.  We're 
in  for  a  long  trip  I" 

Blankets,  bacon  and  ammunition  were  dragged 
out  and  piled  in  the  snow.  Then  these  two  who 
hated  and  feared  each  other  but  a  day  before,  hud- 
dled together  like  two  frightened  boys,  and  watched 
their  last  hope  vanishing  in  flames. 

The  Lucas,  dried  with  the  long  Winter,  burned 
like  tinder.  The  wild  flame,  leaping  out  of  the 
smoke,  hurled  back  the  darkness,  and  built  a  ghastly, 
flickering  day  in  the  midst  of  the  night.  The  bluffs 
loomed  up  blood-red,  and  the  wolves,  lured  by  the 
unaccustomed  light,  gathered  about  the  edge  of  the 
miniature  day,  yelping  and  whining  in  wonder. 

After  hours,  the  flames  died,  and  the  Lucas  lay 
a  smouldering  hulk,  wrapped  in  smoke.  There  was 
no  moon;  the  stars  in  the  intense  cold  glittered 
sharp  as  broken  glass,  and  the  sky  was  like  frosty 
steel. 

Without  a  word,  the  two  men  huddled  together  in 
their  blankets,  and  waited  for  the  dawn.  After  an 
eternity  of  waiting,  the  east  turned  dull  red,  the  stars 
faded  and  the  bleak  waste  emerged  from  the 
shadow.  Only  in  the  east  was  there  promise  of  any- 
thing. There  a  scarlet  patch  of  sky  broke  the 
night's  stupor  as  with  a  shout,  and  the  sun  rose 
round  and  red  like  an  opened  furnace  door,  mocking 
the  frozen  waste. 


VII 

A  Bit  of  Paper 

After  eating  a  hasty  and  joyless  breakfast,  the  two 
survivors  of  the  Lucas  prepared  their  packs,  and 
started  down  the  frozen  river  for  the  south,  where 
Fort  Sully  lay.  When  they  had  walked  a  half  hour. 
Waters  turned  and  looked  back  to  where  the  charred 
remains  of  the  boat  made  a  black  scar  upon  the 
white  valley.  A  great  sadness  welled  up  In  his  heart 
as  he  thought  of  Hanway.  'Tore  Jim!"  he  mut- 
tered, and  turned  hurriedly  to  follow  his  companion. 

Dazed  by  the  sudden  calamity  of  the  preceding 
night,  the  two  walked  all  day  in  silence,  stopping 
only  at  noon  to  build  a  fire  and  cook  bacon  for  their 
dinner.  In  the  evening  they  made  a  framework  of 
poles  in  a  wooded  nook  of  the  bluffs,  and  over  this 
hung  a  blanket.  In  front  of  this  they  built  their  fire. 
They  prepared  their  supper,  ate,  and  then  rolled 
up  in  their  blankets  under  the  covering  that  reflected 
the  heat  downward  upon  them.  In  the  morning 
they  arose  stiffened,  ate  in  silence,  and  pushed  on 
down  the  silent  valley  toward  the  south. 

Day  after  day  they  walked,  weary,  hungry,  dazed, 
319 


320  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

with  the  lonesome  white  spaces  about  them,  glitter- 
ing in  the  sun  by  day  and  glinting  under  the  stars 
by  night.  By  day,  nothing  to  break  the  hush  but  the 
monotonous  crunching  of  their  feet  in  the  snow;  by 
night,  the  popping  of  the  fire  and  the  yelping  of  the 
coyotes,  gathered  about  to  wonder  at  the  strange 
phenomenon  of  fire. 

As  the  days  passed  with  straining  toil,  Waters 
became  much  wearier  than  his  companion,  as  his 
wooden  leg  impeded  his  progress.  He  forgot  the 
Lucas,  forgot  Hanway,  forgot  Lucien,  forgot  the 
days  and  nights  of  terror  in  the  ice-bound  steamboat. 
He  even  forgot  Calhoun  and  what  awaited  him 
there.  He  felt  only  hunger,  fatigue,  and  a  mad  im- 
pulse that  drove  him  ever  to  the  south,  where,  in 
some  mysterious  way,  the  hush  would  be  broken, 
and  the  hunger  and  fatigue  would  vanish.  The  other 
swung  sullenly  along,  his  face  deep-stamped  with  the 
brute  that  grew  ever  within  him  with  the  strain  of 
the  toil  and  the  hush  and  hunger. 

Bearded,  their  faces  whitened  with  their  frozen 
breaths,  they  stumbled  southward  down  the  white 
valley,  no  longer  men  who  knew  of  love  or  pity,  but 
rather  aching,  weary  incarnations  of  the  instinct  for 
home. 

One  evening  after  the  camp  had  been  made,  and 
supper  eaten.  Waters  rolled  up  in  his  blankets,  leav- 
ing the  other  sitting  by  the  fire  with  his  head  resting 
on  his  knees.  Worn  out  with  the  day's  toil.  Waters 
soon  fell  asleep.    When  he  awakened,  it  was  morn- 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  321 

ing;  he  stared  about  him  and  found  himself  alone. 
He  called,  but  heard  only  echoes  from  the  bluffs. 
The  other  had  not  lain  down.  Waters  saw  where 
his  trail  ran  down  the  valley  to  the  south.  Then 
his  heart  sank  with  misgiving.  He  looked  for  the 
bacon  and  found  it  gone! 

A  great  rage  shook  him ;  he  cursed  into  the  frosty 
silence,  his  hands  clenched  nervously  with  the  desire 
to  kill.  He  was  the  primitive  beast  robbed  of  its 
food,  and  he  wanted  to  kill  and  devour. 

Forgetting  the  hunger  that  had  assailed  him  when 
he  awoke,  he  prepared  his  pack,  threw  it  across  his 
shoulders,  and  took  the  fresh  trail  that  wound  mock- 
ingly ahead  of  him  and  disappeared  in  the  glint  of 
sun  upon  snow.  At  noon  he  did  not  stop,  but 
struggled  on  down  the  path  of  him  he  wanted  to  kill. 
His  rage  burned  big  in  him,  warming  and  strength- 
ening where  hunger  would  have  chilled  and  weak- 
ened. As  he  went,  his  quivering  lips  shaped  male- 
dictions, savage  cries  of  hate.  He  had  forgotten 
everything  now;  even  the  yearning  for  the  south  had 
passed,  and  he  was  conscious  only  of  a  hideous  de- 
sire to  catch,  tear,  crush,  kill. 

But  anger  is  swift  and  transient;  hunger  slow  and 
tireless.  The  day  waned,  and  the  dusk  swallowed 
the  far  windings  of  the  trail.  Waters  felt  his  hunger 
coming  on  him  like  a  mortal  sickness,  and  still  the 
trail  of  the  faithless  continued  into  the  deepening 
dusk. 

Reaching  the  spot  where  the  other  had  camped 


322  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

for  dinner,  he  found  a  log  still  smouldering,  and 
near  It  some  bacon  rinds.  He  devoured  the  leavings 
of  the  other's  meal,  with  a  bitterness  lurking  like 
smouldering  coals  where  his  rage  had  flamed.  He 
sat  down  by  the  log,  exhausted,  his  courage  dead 
with  his  anger,  until  the  last  spark  of  the  log  died, 
and  the  night  had  driven  the  last  glow  from  the 
southwest.  Then  he  thought  he  would  rebuild  the 
fire  and  lie  down.  If  he  never  got  up — well,  what 
did  it  matter?  He  gathered  some  brush  and  made  it 
ready  to  kindle.  As  he  drew  a  match  from  his 
pocket,  a  bit  of  paper  fell  before  him  in  the  snow. 

He  picked  it  up  and  tried  to  read  what  was 
scrawled  upon  it  in  the  gloom.  He  lit  a  match  that 
he  might  read.  Stunned  with  hunger  and  fatigue, 
and  chilled  with  his  sitting  In  the  cold,  he  slowly 
spelled  It  out  in  the  match  glow. 

L — u — c — I — e — n    H — a — n — 

The  match  went  out,  but  a  great  light  had  grown 
up  In  his  brain.  Luclen  Hanwayl  The  address  writ- 
ten by  the  engineer  when  he  had  said;  "Swear  be- 
fore your  God  that  if  I  die  you  will  look  after  my 
boyl" 

As  in  a  dream.  Waters  heard  the  words  again; 
heard  his  own  answer:  "I  swear  that,  Jim;  I  do 
before  God;"  heard  the  overtaxed  engine  throbbing 
like  a  great  heart  yearning  for  home;  saw  the  hag- 
gard, anxious  face  of  him  who  ran  a  futile  race  with 
Dread  and  Death;  remembered  how  this  vow  had 
kept  him  up  and  made  him  strong  when  calamity 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  323 

followed  calamity  through  the  terrors  of  hush  and 
storm,  In  the  face  of  famine  and  riot,  disease  and 
death. 

And  as  he  thought  thus,  his  weakness  passed;  he 
chilled  no  more ;  he  was  no  longer  weary.  Even  the 
bitterness  of  burnt-out  anger  passed,  and  as  he  got 
to  his  feet,  slung  his  pack  on  his  shoulders  and  took 
the  trail,  the  great  still  spaces  were  no  longer  lone- 
some. A  something  strong  and  kind  and  calm  seemed 
brooding  in  the  hush  that  gently  chlded  his  former 
violence. 

Through  the  stillness,  under  the  quiet,  sclntlllant 
stars,  he  rushed  down  the  white  valley,  breathing 
strength  from  the  Infinite  calm.  Midnight  passed, 
the  stars  of  morning  rose  and  paled  and  faded  in  the 
dawn;  and  Waters  came  upon  a  nook  in  the  bluffs 
where  the  trail  stopped  before  a  smouldering  fire  and 
a  sleeping  man. 

He  cautiously  approached  the  sleeper  and  gazed 
upon  his  face  whitened  with  his  breath.  As  he 
gazed,  the  light  of  a  great  pity  suffused  his  face  and 
softened  his  eye,  bloodshot  with  the  hardship  of  the 
trail. 

"Pore  devil  I"  he  muttered. 

He  found  the  bacon  hanging  upon  the  framework 
near  the  man's  head.  He  took  his  knife  and  care- 
fully cut  the  piece  of  meat  in  halves.  One  he  placed 
in  his  pack,  and  hung  the  other  where  he  had  found 
it.  Then  he  took  one  of  his  revolvers  from  its 
holster,   cocked  it  and  laid  it  carefully  upon  the 


324  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

sleeping  man's  breast.  As  he  started  to  go  away,  he 
saw  that  the  fire  had  fallen  low.  He  hurriedly  re- 
plenished it  from  a  small  pile  of  wood  lying  near  by, 
and  then  walked  rapidly  away  into  the  south.  When 
he  came  to  a  bend  in  the  river,  he  turned  and  looked 
back.  The  flame  burned  with  a  kindly  light  in  the 
distance,  and  the  man  had  not  yet  gotten  up.  A  thin 
gray  column  of  smoke  mounted  from  the  fire  toward 
the  sky  where  the  floating  frost  sparkled  in  the  dawn, 
and  it  seemed  to  Waters  like  a  finger  pointing. 

*'Better'n  killing"  he  muttered;  then  with  a  heart 
grown  strangely  light,  he  pushed  on  about  the 
shoulder  of  the  bluff,  and  toiled  onward  into  the 
south. 


VIII 
Bread  Upon  the  Waters 

Waters  did  not  stop  to  rest  all  that  day.  As  he 
walked,  he  cut  a  strip  of  bacon  and  chewed  it  for  his 
dinner.  He  felt  that  he  must  put  as  many  hours  as 
possible  between  himself  and  the  other.  He  could 
not  run  the  risk  of  being  overtaken  asleep,  now  that 
he  had  rediscovered  his  purpose.  He  was  the  father 
of  a  dead  man's  child,  and  he  must  not  fail.  He 
walked  until  late  at  night,  then  built  a  fire,  prepared 
his  supper,  ate,  and  slept.  But  notwithstanding  his 
utter  weariness,  for  he  had  travelled  long  without 
rest,  his  sleep  was  broken,  and  long  before  sunrise, 
he  got  up,  replenished  his  fire,  cooked  his  breakfast 
and  pushed  on. 

But  his  limbs  were  stiff  and  weak  and  he  felt  a 
strange  giddiness  at  times.  By  sheer  will  he  drove 
his  unwilling  body  southward.  As  the  day  ad- 
vanced, the  giddiness  increased.  But  Waters  knew, 
through  his  familiarity  with  the  bluffs  along  the 
river,  that  he  was  now  within  fifty  miles  of  the  Fort. 
He  had  been  walking  thirteen  days,  but  to  his  dazed 
mind  the  period  reached  far  back  into  ancient  time. 

325 


326  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

**Only  fifty  years,"  he  muttered  deliriously; 
*'miles — no,  years — miles — miles — fifty.  Get  there 
in  fifty  years,  if  I  don't  give  out.  But  I  won't,  I 
can't.  Jim's  watchin'  me — can't  give  out — can't — 
can't."  The  words  went  on  in  his  head  of  their  own 
accord,  timing  their  own  recurrence  to  the  labored, 
painful  dragging  of  the  feet. 

A  light  snow  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  fit- 
ful gusts  of  wind  whirled  it  in  fantastic  wraiths 
ahead  of  the  delirious  toiler. 

His  fancy  built  images  in  the  fitful  maze.  Once 
he  saw  ahead  of  him  the  face  of  a  boy  he  did  not 
know.  It  was  the  face  of  Hanway  translated  into 
youth.  ''I'm  comin',  Lucien,  I'm  comin',"  said 
Waters  in  a  husky  whisper,  that  was  meant  for  a 
shout.  The  snow  maze  cleared  and  the  image 
passed,  and  Waters  still  pushed  through  the  white 
waste  that  danced  giddily  about  him  like  an  ocean 
in  a  gale.  Once  a  flurry  of  snow  sprang  up  at  his 
feet,  and  spun  down  the  stretch  ahead,  glittering  in 
the  sunlight.  It  took  on  the  form  of  the  Island  Girl, 
with  her  hair  like  flame  about  her  body,  glowing 
from  the  bath  at  dawn.  Waters'  weary  heart 
leaped,  and  he  urged  his  tottering  limbs  into  a  trot, 
vainly  trying  to  reach  the  vision.  He  stumbled  and 
fell  upon  his  face  in  the  snow.  The  earth  whirled 
about  him  giddily.  He  tried  to  get  up,  muttering, 
"can't — can't — can't  stop";  but  the  light  passed  and 
the  whirling  ceased,  and  he  was  so  comfortable 
there  that  he  fell  asleep. 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  327 

Twinges  of  pain,  as  of  the  pricking  of  needles 
in  his  fingers  and  toes,  aroused  him.  He  opened 
his  eye  wearily.  He  was  wrapped  in  one  of  his 
blankets  and  the  other  was  arranged  as  a  canopy 
over  his  head.  A  rousing  fire  burned  near  by.  In 
spite  of  a  strange  numbness  in  his  limbs,  he  raised 
himself  to  a  sitting  posture  and  looked  about.  It 
was  night.  Dazedly  he  wondered.  Surely  the  last 
he  had  known  he  was  on  the  trail !  How  did  It 
happen  that  he  was  now  in  camp  beside  a  warm 
fire? 

He  got  up  and  experienced  more  pain  as  he 
stepped  on  his  foot.  Yes,  he  remembered  he  had 
fallen,  but  he  didn't  remember  getting  up,  much 
less  making  camp  and  going  to  bed.  "Must  have 
frosted  my  foot  and  hands,"  he  thought.  He 
looked  about  him  wonderingly,  trying  to  remember 
when  he  had  done  all  this.  As  he  looked  about,  he 
discovered  a  half  dozen  slices  of  bacon  sizzling  on 
a  hot  stone  by  the  fire.  He  looked  about  for  his 
piece  of  bacon,  and  found  it  hanging  under  the  shel- 
ter where  he  had  awakened.  It  was  just  as  he  had 
left  it;  none  had  been  cut  off.  He  went  back  to 
the  fire,  and  his  hunger  came  at  sight  of  the  waiting 
meal.  He  ate  greedily.  Then  he  placed  snow  on 
the  hot  stone,  and  as  it  melted,  caught  the  water 
in  his  hands  and  drank.  He  began  to  feel  stronger, 
and  could  think  clearly.  He  sat  down  by  the  fire 
and  wondered.  As  he  gazed  downward,  his  glance 
fell  upon  the  holster  that  had  been  empty  when  he 


328  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

fell.  His  revolver,  that  he  had  left  on  the  breast 
of  the  other,  was  there  in  its  place. 

Then  it  all  became  clear  to  Waters.  He  smiled 
into  the  flames.  '^Better'n  kiUin',"  he  said.  Then 
he  went  back  to  his  blankets,  and  fell  into  a  heavy, 
peaceful  sleep. 

He  awakened  late  next  morning,  and  started 
south.  To  his  surprise,  he  found  a  good  path  ahead 
of  him,  as  though  some  one  had  dragged  something 
to  break  the  trail.  A  great  peace,  as  of  one  who 
has  won  a  victory,  filled  his  heart,  though  his  limbs 
were  dull  and  heavy,  and  his  foot  ached  with  every 
step.  Toward  evening  the  trail  led  into  a  sheltered 
nook  in  the  bluffs.  Waters  followed  it,  and  found 
a  heap  of  wood  ready  to  be  lit.  Also  he  found  a 
small  log  covered  with  snow,  and  worn  by  being 
dragged  on  the  ice. 

The  next  day  his  weakness  came  upon  him  again. 
All  that  day  and  the  next,  he  struggled  southward, 
with  his  aching  gaze  fixed  upon  the  trail.  Delirious 
with  exhaustion,  he  stumbled  along  with  but  one 
thought — that  he  must  fulfil  his  vow  to  Hanway. 
The  white  waste  whirled  about  him.  He  staggered, 
fell,  got  up  and  stumbled  on,  with  the  one  fixed  idea 
goading  him  like  a  whip.  And  then  the  time  came 
when  he  could  no  longer  arise  when  he  fell. 

For  a  long  while  there  was  only  darkness  and 
numbness;  then  he  was  aroused  by  voices  and  the 
stamping  of  horses,  coming  faintly  from  afar.  Then 
he  was  half  conscious  of  a  giddy  rushing  through 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  3^9 

the  air,  the  sound  of  dogs'  feet,  and  the  hiss  of 
runners  in  the  snow. 

When  Waters  wakened,  he  was  lying  in  a  bunk. 
He  saw  a  strange  face  above  him,  wavering  as  in 
the  heat  of  Summer.  His  temples  throbbed,  and 
his  whole  body  was  a  burning  ache. 

"Who're  you?"  said  Waters,  his  own  voice  sound- 
ing dimly  to  him. 

"Fm  the  major,"  said  the  face,  smiling  kindly, 
and  seeming  hazy  as  though  it  were  at  a  great  dis- 
tance. "Who  are  you?  The  other  fellow  didn't 
say." 

"Fm — Vm "    His  head  reeled  and  throbbed 

as  he  searched  the  bewildering  maze  of  his  mind  for 
the  elusive  answer. 

"Fm — uh — Fm — Jim  Han — Han-way;  ain't  I?" 


IX 

A  Notch  Deepened 

The  Summer  following  Mrs.  Sprangs'  return  to 
Fort  Calhoun  was  a  long,  lonesome  one.  Specks 
came  up  from  his  school  in  July,  only  to  return 
again  in  August.  The  gossips  of  the  village  worked 
overtime  continually,  and  Mrs.  Sprangs  found  her- 
self isolated  with  the  child  June. 

"Gracious  me!"  said  Mrs.  Griggs  puffingly. 
"TheyM  ought  to  get  married  now  and  clear  out  of 
here!  Him  sendin*  her  boy  to  school  like  his'n; 
and  his  poor  little  innocent  flower  of  a  wife  hardly 
in  her  grave;  and  her  a-coddlin'  his  baby  like  it 
was  her'n,  and  poor,  hard-workin'  Mr.  Sprangs  as 
slaved  his  life  away  in  the  mines  for  her,  hardly 
begun  to  molder  in  his  grave!'* 

When  the  Fall  came,  the  gossip  of  the  village 
was  aggravated  by  the  sight  of  the  woman  with 
the  child  walking  out  to  the  river  in  the  sombre, 
autumnal  evenings,  where  she  would  stand  gazing 
with  quiet  eyes  up  the  stretches  of  the  river,  fading 
into  the  dusk. 

Boats  appeared  and  passed,  but  not  the  Island 

330 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  331 

Girl.  And  then  at  last  the  Winter  came;  the  river 
became  a  winding  strip  of  white,  and  the  woman  no 
longer  gazed  up  the  stream,  but  sat  patiently  at 
home  with  the  little  girl  huddled  at  her  breast, 
waiting  for  the  Spring. 

At  Sully,  days  and  weeks  passed,  of  which  Wat- 
ers had  no  knowledge.  He  existed  in  a  feverish, 
phantasmagoric  world  of  snow  wastes,  burning 
steamboats,  madmen,  faces,  faces,  faces.  They 
boiled  and  seethed  about  him — these  faces.  Now 
there  was  wave  after  wave  of  brutal  faces  that 
leered  at  him;  now  it  was  the  face  of  James  Han- 
way  infinitely  multiplied — a  pitiful,  tragic  face.  Now 
it  was  the  face  of  the  Island  Girl  floating  in  dazzling 
billows  of  golden  hair — whole  riotous  sunsets  of 
burning  hair.  Now  again  it  was  a  quiet  flood  of 
gentle,  motherly  faces — the  face  of  Mrs.  Sprangs, 
infinitely  multiplied. 

Like  a  drowning  man,  he  cried  out  to  these  faces, 
but  they  gave  no  answer.  Then  suddenly  it  all  sub- 
sided with  a  lingering  melancholy  sound,  as  when 
the  frothy  waves  begin  to  grow  quiet  after  a  storm, 
and  the  consciousness  of  day  burst  upon  him — a 
glad,  golden  day  of  Spring. 

He  still  heard  a  deep  sullen  roaring.  He  also 
heard  a  step  near  him,  and  the  face  of  an  elderly 
man,  a  quiet,  reassuring  man,  bent  over  him. 

"WeVe  notified  her,"  said  the  Face.  "I'm  the 
surgeon  of  the  Fort,  you  know.  How  are  you 
feeling?" 


332  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

"Who's  that?"  said  Waters  dazedly. 

**Why,  Mrs.  Sprangs,  of  Fort  Calhoun.  You 
have  been  speaking  of  her  a  great  deal  of  the  time; 
a  near  relation,  no  doubt.  So  we  sent  her  a  letter 
by  stage,  telling  her  of  your  condition.  You  seemed 
about  to  pass  in  for  a  while.  But  you  are  getting 
along  finely  now.    You  must  be  as  quiet  as  possible." 

The  face  withdrew,  and  Waters  lay,  too  weak  to 
follow  it  with  his  gaze,  staring  at  a  strange  wall, 
and  pondering  in  bewilderment.  They  had  notified 
her?  Would  she  come?  he  wondered.  How  long 
had  he  been  there?  It  seemed  only  yesterday  that 
he  had  been  struggling  through  the  white  waste, 
so  weary,  so  weary. 

What  was  that  sound?  That  booming  and  clash- 
ing and  rending?  Ah,  the  music  of  it  I  It  was  the 
river  breaking  its  chains;  it  was  the  hoarse,  glad 
cry  of  the  Spring!  He  tried  to  rise,  but  he  could 
not. 

"I  must've  been  pretty  well  done  up !"  he  mused. 
''Been  layin'  here  quite  a  spell  1  Ice  breakin'  up, 
eh?  Got  to  get  well  pretty  soon,  'cause  the  Island 
Girl  '11  be  along  after  while  to  get  me.  Lucien  Han- 
way  1  Oh,  thank  God  I  didn't  die!  I  believe  I 
would've  died  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him  I  I'll  go 
and  get  him  as  soon  as  I  get  well.  Oh,  a  feller 
ain't  so  bad  off  that  has  sons  give  to  him  ready- 
made,  I  guess  I 

"Mrs.  Sprangs  knows  it  I  Wonder  if  she'll 
come?     If  she  does — if  she  does " 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  333 

He  felt  very  weak  and  giddy  and  sleepy,  and  the 
world  dwindled  away  again  Into  the  realm  of  faces; 
only  quiet  faces  now — kind,  quiet  faces. 

Weeks  passed;  the  river  cleared  Itself  of  ice,  and 
Waters  was  able  at  last  to  stroll  about  the  Fort  in 
the  sunlight.  He  spent  many  hours  at  the  river, 
waiting  for  the  first  sight  of  the  Island  Girl's  smoke, 
and  dreaming  the  old  dreams  over.  Would  she 
come?  Would  she  come,  bringing  the  old  sunrise 
with  her — the  one  he  had  toiled  so  hard  to  build, 
only  to  have  it  fall  into  gray  clouds  under  his  touch? 

One  day  in  May,  two  boats  pulled  up  at  the  little 
settlement  of  Fort  Sully.  One  was  the  Island  Girl 
from  the  north,  and  the  other  the  Emilie  from  the 
south ;  the  old  Emilie,  from  which  he  had  been  cast 
in  disgrace  upon  the  island.  Yet  this  time  it  was  not 
the  same  Emilie — not  the  Emilie  of  drunkenness 
and  bitter  dreams;  for  it  brought  Mrs.  Sprangs  and 
June. 

At  sight  of  her  face.  Waters  felt  the  dawn  in 
his  blood.  She  had  come — for  him — because  he 
needed  her  1 

And  yet,  a  something  strange  seemed  to  have 
come  between  them.  Why  did  she  seem  so  distant? 
Why  did  she  spoil  it  all  by  saying:  "I  thought  you 
would  like  to  see  June  again,  because  they  said  you 
were  very  sick  and  might  die"? 

Was  that  all?  Oh,  the  poor  lingering  dawn  that 
would  not  climb  I 

They  embarked  on  the  Island  Girl  for  the  south. 


334  THE    DAWN-BUILDER 

Sitting  together  on  the  deck,  Waters  recounted  to 
her  the  adventures  of  the  Winter;  told  her  of  Luclen 
Hanway,  and  how  he  had  struggled  to  keep  his 
promise  to  the  dead  engineer.  And  then,  when  he 
ceased,  she  sat  in  constrained  silence — only  silence. 

Oh,  the  poor  lingering  dawn! 

In  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  the  Island  Girl 
pulled  in  at  Old  Man's  Island. 

"I  want  to  go  and  look  at  the  old  places  again," 
Waters  said  to  Mrs.  Sprangs.  "Will  you  come 
along?"    And  they  went  In  silence. 

They  passed  through  the  woods,  looked  in  at 
the  door  of  the  deserted  cabin,  gazed  upon  the 
spring,  and  at  last  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the 
bluff  and  sat  beneath  the  Isolated  scrub  oak. 

Many  minutes  passed  In  silence.  At  length  Wat- 
ers spoke  in  a  low,  strange  voice. 

"Mrs.  Sprangs,"  he  said,  "do  you  see  these  nicks 
in  my  wooden  leg?  Three  of  'em!  Well,  right 
here  where  she  can  hear,  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
'em.  This  first  one — I  cut  that  the  first  time  I  was 
happy — that  was  when  you  was  good  to  me  when  I 
was  bad.  I  cut  that  second  one  when  I  saw  that  the 
poor  little  butterfly  loved  me.  And  this  third  one 
I  cut  for  June.  It's  my  whole  life,  Mrs.  Sprangs — 
all  that's  good  of  it.  But  I  can't  stand  lookin'  at 
'em  as  they  are.  I  want  to  change  'em.  Tell  me, 
must  I  cut  the  first  one  clean  away?  Or  must  I  cut 
away  the  second  one?    Oh,  it'd  hurt  to  do  either  I" 


THE    DAWN-BUILDER  335 

He  took  out  his  knife  and  nervously  passed  it 
over  and  over  the  three  notches. 

"Mrs.  Sprangs/'  he  said,  '*you  seem  like  she  was 
in  you.  I  can  see  her  lookin'  out  of  your  eyes  1 
I've  been  tryin'  to  build  me  a  sunrise  for  a  long 
spell,  and,  somehow,  it'd  tumble  back  into  the  dark 
again.  It  never  got  to  be  noon.  You  see,  God  has 
put  a  fambly  in  our  way.  We'd  have  Specks  and 
June  and  Lucien,  'cause  I'm  goin'  south  to  get  him 
right  away. 

"Tell  me,  which  nick  shall  I  cut  away?" 

"Give  me  the  knife,"  she  said  quietly,  dropping 
her  eyes  from  the  earnest  gaze  of  Waters. 

She  took  the  knife,  carefully  deepened  the  first 
notch;  then  bent  her  head  and  kissed  it. 


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